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brbsoulnomming · 1 year ago

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 11

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Time passes in bits and pieces. He hears screaming, and crying, and loud voices, and he thinks he feels himself moving, but mostly it's just stretches of nothingness broken up by radiating waves of pain.

The first thing that filters through with any kind of recognition is, of all things, Erica Sinclair.

She's completely tearing down Steve, calling him a moron with an overinflated sense of his own abilities and an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation, and a liar, and describing in intricate detail the exact size, shape, and heat of the fire that's going to consume him because of said lying.

Eddie absolutely has to see this, and he forces his eyes open, faintly registering the blurry form of a brilliant, defiant Erica Sinclair, but nothing else.

"Come over here," Steve says softly, from - somewhere, Eddie can hear his voice but can't see him.

"I'm not a baby, I don't need a hug." Her eyes have this glassy sheen, though, and her lower lip wobbles, and -

Oh, oh no, Eddie regrets opening his eyes, because he's not sure he's capable of handling seeing her cry.

"I need a hug," Steve says from wherever he is.

Erica gathers herself up, launching herself at - something, and Eddie blinks a few times to try to get his vision to clear. His head feels foggy as he attempts to turn it, like he's moving through thick, clouded water.

Or maybe jello.

Oh, there's Steve. He has his arms around Erica and she's all curled up into him, like she's trying to hide herself in his hold, barely visible in the hospital bed.

Wait, hospital bed?

Why is Steve in a hospital bed?

His mind skips and tries to hold onto something, but it's gone before he knows it.

Eddie's drifting again. There's snippets of conversation, words that stand out on their own but don't make any kind of sense when strung together, voices he thinks he recognizes but get all jumbled up and twisted until he can't tell one from another.

Finally, he wakes enough to know he's awake, and what looks like a hospital room drifts into focus - clinical, sterile walls, beeping machines, curtain drawn around him - he's alone, utterly alone, and there's something up his nose, something clawing at his hand, something weighing down his ribs, filling up his lungs. He starts to feel himself hyperventilate, starts to hear the machines beeping louder.

Cursing comes from behind the curtain, then, "Eddie?"

Eddie's breath catches and sticks in his throat, and it's not until he sees the curtain start to move that he gets it unstuck.

"Steve?" he asks, his voice sounding like he swallowed shards of glass.

Throat feels like it, too.

"M'here," Steve says, and the curtain is finally pulled back enough that Eddie can see him.

Steve's panting, neck all bandaged up, eyes glassy, wearing only a hospital gown - but he's standing, alive and real, and Eddie starts to feel his heart rate slow.

"Hi," he says.

Steve quirks a little smile. "Hey," he says back.

Eddie's focus goes hazy for a moment, and he lights on the rumpled hospital bed behind Steve, realizes that's where he came from, and frowns at him.

"Get the fuck back in bed, Harrington."

Steve waves a hand at him. "Working on it."

Eddie opens his mouth to ask what the hell that means when he notices the faint tremble in Steve's hand where it holds the curtain, the wide, stiff stance of his legs.

"Should I call someone?"

"S'okay," Steve says, managing to turn himself around and shuffle close enough to the bed that he can drop down on it. "Dustin'll be back soon, he can call whoever you need for you."

"That's not-" Eddie cuts off, mostly because he has to suck in a deep breath to keep talking, and it makes his whole abdomen feel like there's a thousand needles sticking into him.

Or a thousand tiny, vicious teeth, and there's some kind of noise echoing in the air that he's never heard before, something high pitched and whining and terrified, rough and dangerous like the shriek of metal gears threatening to pop out of place with one more turn -

"Eddie?" Steve's saying, sounding just a little panicked. "Shit, Eddie, do you need-"

There's a rustling like Steve's going to get back up to come over to him, and that's enough to cut through his own panic and make him realize that the noise is coming from him.

Eddie clamps his mouth shut, only to immediately open it and hiss out, "No."

There's silence for a moment, other than the sound of ragged breaths from both of them and the faint beep of the monitors.

"I'm - fuck, okay, I'm pretty not okay right now, I gotta tell you, but I'm going to be less okay if you hurt yourself getting over here so just. Stay there where I can see you, okay, big boy?"

Steve's throat works as if he's considering insisting that he can absolutely get over there just fine, but Eddie can see the moment that he gives in.

"Okay. Just - I'm here, Eds, okay? I'm here, you're safe."

"Okay," Eddie says, trying to focus on slowing his breathing. Trying not to think about what he last remembers, trying not to think about anything. "Okay."

There's a beat, and then Eddie closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see Steve's face as he asks, "Can you say it again?"

And thank fucking Jesus - or whoever - for Steve goddamn Harrington, who knows exactly what Eddie's asking, who gives it to him without hesitation. He doesn't think about what that means, about how many times Steve's done this for one of the others after shit went down, or if someone's done this for him.

He just makes himself breathe, and falls back asleep to the endless murmur of Steve Harrington whispering, "You're safe, I'm here. You're not alone. You're safe."

—

Dustin's in the hospital bed with Steve the next time Eddie opens his eyes. Tucked in against him, face buried in Steve's shoulder like he was crying, Steve's arm around his shoulders holding him close - the way Eddie's uncle used to do for him, back when he wasn't much younger than Dustin. Steve's eyes are closed, and Eddie watches them and wonders -

How long have they been doing this? How many times have they saved the world, how old were they when this all started? Eddie's the oldest one out of the lot of them, he realizes. Out there, he'd felt so young, so inexperienced next to all of them, but now? With Steve's face gone slack in sleep, Dustin holding onto him like he was a kid climbing into his big brother's bed after a bad dream?

Fuck, they're all so young.

He means to say something, he thinks, but his throat feels like it's full of sawdust, and he's not sure how he's supposed to speak when his tongue is so heavy and swollen. He swallows, swallows again, closes his eyes to swallow for the third time, like it's going to help -

His eyes open, and it's just Steve in the bed again.

Steve's own eyes are half closed, but he still must spot that Eddie's awake again, because he gives that stupid little finger wiggling wave that he'd done when they first returned to the boathouse with a buttload of junk food for Eddie the Banished.

Fuck, Eddie really likes him.

"Hey," he manages to say, and then gives a strangled yelp when he feels a sudden intense pressure on his hand.

Eddie looks down at it, sees a pair of hands holding his own so securely he's not sure they're ever going to be separated, follows the hands to the arms they're connected to, and then -

"Henderson." The rush of relief that Eddie feels is so overwhelming that he has to slam his eyes shut against the sting of tears, and he can feel his chest heaving as he struggles to breathe without letting it become wet, wrenching sobs.

"Eddie?" Dustin asks, sounding panicked. "Eddie - shit, Steve, I think he's -"

Eddie squeezes his hand, trying to wordlessly tell him that he's okay - or at least as okay as he's gonna get right now.

Distantly, he can hear Steve saying something, low and steady, and it takes him a moment before he realizes it's another mantra of, "You're safe, man, Dustin's okay. Everyone's okay, it's all right."

His breathing evens out, though there's still a bit of a painful edge to when he breathes too deeply, and he manages to open his eyes again.

"Hey," Eddie says, his voice raspy.

Dustin's eyes are all shiny and red rimmed, and he tilts his head down to scrub his face against his shoulder. "Are you awake now?"

Eddie tries to lift his other hand to give a noncommittal wiggle, but it feels heavier than he expected, and he gives up halfway through. "Eh," he says instead. "Fifty-fifty."

Dustin's expression crumples a little at that, like he's not sure if he's going to cry or shout. "I'm really mad at you," he tells him matter-of-factly. "But I guess I can't yell at you until you're at least seventy-thirty."

"Nooooo," Eddie protests. "Why don't you yell at me while I'm fully asleep, all right? I give you blanket permission to yell at me while I'm unconscious, then we can get it over with."

Dustin raises an eyebrow. "Do you even know why you're getting yelled at?"

"Nope." If Eddie thought about it hard enough, he's pretty sure he could figure it out, but - he doesn't want to think about it hard enough. "That's also another point in favor of being yelled at while I'm out."

"You almost died," Dustin hisses, and oh, yeah.

Right.

"So much for seventy-thirty," Eddie mutters, then frowns. "Wait, why am I not dead?"

Dustin makes this distressed, gut wrenching sound - a sound that tugs something loose in his memories, because he's reasonably sure he's heard it before when everything was pain and screaming and sobbing, and fuck, he never wants to hear the kid sound like that again.

"I'm sorry," Eddie manages to get out. "I'm sorry, Dustin, I'm so sorry."

"Don't ever do that again, okay?" Dustin asks, holding on to his hand so tightly that he thinks it would hurt if he wasn't a little floaty from pain meds. "Promise me Eddie, don't ever leave me behind like that again, I can't do it."

Fuck.

"Okay," he says softly. "It apparently didn't work anyway."

He doesn't say that if it's a choice between him or Dustin, it's always going to be him, but - clearly trying to make sure the kid couldn't follow him didn't work out all that well, so he can promise to do things differently next time.

"You found me," Eddie says, though it's half a question.

"Yeah." That one word holds a weight of grief and anger and horror heavy enough to drown in, and Eddie winces.

"I'm sorry," he says again, even though he knows there's no apologizing for what Dustin must have gone through, finding him like that.

Dustin juts his chin out, the picture of stubbornness.

He looks a little bit like Steve, there.

"I'm not," Dustin says. "If I hadn't found you, it might've been too late. If I hadn't intercepted the others and told them what you did, they would've wasted time going back to the trailer and the gate we didn't have easy access to anymore."

Eddie doesn't think he sounds accusing, but - he's willing to admit he didn't think his plan through, just as much as he's willing to admit he can't think all that clearly now.

"How…?" he trails off, hoping Dustin will be able to tell what he's asking.

"We used Fred's gate, the one in the woods by the highway." Dustin sniffles a little, sounding like he's trying to get himself under control. "Steve carried you out."

Eddie's gaze darts back over to the other hospital bed at that. Steve's eyes are closed and his face is half turned away, but Eddie kind of gets the feeling he's just trying to give them some sense of privacy rather than him really being asleep.

Fuck, of course the guy literally carried him out of hell.

"Sounds like a lot of effort to go through just to drag my sorry ass out of there," Eddie mutters, looking away from both of them.

Dustin scoffs. "Steve, tell Eddie he's being a dumbass!"

"You're being a dumbass, Munson," Steve chimes in dutifully, completely validating Eddie's conclusion about him being awake.

"Hey!" Eddie protests, but his voice isn't up to making it as forceful as he wants it to be.

"You're one of us now," Dustin tells him earnestly. "We're not going to leave you alone, okay?"

Fuck, he feels like he's going to cry again.

"Yeah, I hear you," he says, more because he wants Dustin to stop saying things like that than because he's really internalized it. He looks over at Steve. "What happened to get you stuck in here with me, man? Was Robin right, is it the rabies?"

Steve gives an offended sounding squawk. "I do not have rabies, Munson, oh my god."

Dustin's eyes get huge. "Rabies? I thought you said it was just an infection? Was rabies a possibility?"

"It was never a possibility! It's just Robin and Eddie being stupid!"

"Oh, stupid like not fully treating your demobat bites and not telling any of us how bad they were getting until you collapsed in the hospital?"

"Almost collapsed!" Steve protests. "I almost collapsed, there's a difference!"

Mission accomplished, Eddie closes his eyes, letting himself lean further back in his pillows.

He listens to the sounds of Steve and Dustin bickering back and forth, hearing the echo of a sharp, aching love under each of their words and letting the pretense that it now includes him soothe him to sleep.

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Taglist (hopefully I got everyone, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bookworm0690

I am weak for Steve & Dustin & Eddie, okay, I had to include some - the next couple of bits are likely going to be more party bonding, but the boys will get some alone time soon!

Part 12

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #soulmate au #steddie soulmate au #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin

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punchdrunkdoc · 1 month ago

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Part 4, Chapter 2

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 4

Chapter 2

“Matt!” Foggy clambered to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the tiled floor outside the apartment. He grabbed Matt in a hug, and thumped his clenched fist against Matt’s back a few times for good measure.

“Hey, Fog,” Matt said wearily.

“‘Hey Fog’?” Foggy repeated. “I might not have seen you in five years, and all you got is ‘Hey, Fog’”

“It’s not been five years,” Matt said, unlocking his apartment door. “I saw you yesterday - and you saw me then too. You returned today, just like I did.”

“How do you know? How do you always know these things?”

“I went by the office.”

“Oh. You mean the office that is now a frickin’ beauty salon?!”

“Apparently.”

“Holy shit, was that wild,” Foggy elaborated. “One minute I’m sitting at my desk, and the next I’m on my ass because the desk is no longer there, and I’m surrounded by a bunch of screaming Vietnamese women.”

Matt huffed out a laugh, the visual momentarily raising his mood. But only momentarily.

He was glad to see his friend was okay, but he wanted - he needed - to know what had happened to Calina, and he was running out of means to do so.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, and asked Foggy about the third member of their team. “You heard about Karen?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said sadly. “She stayed behind.”

“What about Marci?” Matt asked, hoping his Foggy wasn’t going through the same hell he was.

“She disappeared with us. I went to our apartment first - she was working from home this morning, and she was still there.” Foggy’s voice wavered slightly as he said the last sentence, his relief palpable. “Her parents rushed over right away, so I left to give them some space to reconnect. What about Calina?”

Matt shook his head. “I- I don’t know. She’s not next door. She’s not here. She’s not in any of the places I’ve checked. The internet’s down-”

“The internet’s down?” Foggy checked the display on his phone. “Shit, I thought it was just me.”

“No. The servers crashed apparently. So I have no idea how to look for her, Foggy. I don’t know if she returned and got hurt somewhere, or if she never disappeared in the first place. If she stayed, she could be anywhere. Five years is a long time, man, and she could be-”

“Hey,” Foggy interrupted. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. The first step is figuring out if she disappeared. The moment the internet is back up we’ll start looking for her. In the meantime, sit down and take a minute, you look wrecked, man. Did you even sleep last night? In 2018, I mean?”

Matt remembered back to the night before. To the restaurant. To tailing Cross and Ranieri, and staying out until dawn. To the fight with Calina…

Jesus, had that only been last night? Less than 12 hours ago?

It felt like another lifetime.

Matt took Foggy’s advice, suddenly feeling exhausted. He collapsed onto the couch, the movement dislodging the layer of dust coating the unused piece of furniture. Matt coughed as the particles swirled in the air, and frowned as he heard plastic crinkle beneath him. He smoothed his hand over the couch, and realised it was covered in some sort of protective wrapping.

“Weird,” Foggy said, commented on the same thing. “Your stuff’s all still here. Its covered in sheets and plastic…but it’s still here.”

Matt shrugged. “Maybe the landlord couldn’t rent the place out again?”

“But why would he give a shit about your stuff? Why didn’t he toss it on the street or give it to Goodwill?”

Matt stood up again and wandered around the apartment, cataloguing the contents. Foggy was right, everything was still here, just as he’d left it. His phone charger was still plugged in by the radiator. His toothbrush was still in the bathroom. His clothes were in the closet. His alarm was on the bedside table…

But there were no signs of Calina. The book she keep by the side of the bed was gone. The silky robe that hung in the bathroom - gone. The running shoes she stashed by the front door - gone.

“Matt?” Foggy called out. “I’ve got something.”

“What is it?” Matt asked. He found Foggy standing in front of the small bureau in the living room, rifling through a pile of papers.

“Electricity bills, water bills…all for this address, all in the name of Calina Balashova. And-” Foggy sucked in a breath.

“What?”

“The deed for the apartment. Matt…she bought this place. In 2019.”

2019.

“She stayed,” Matt whispered. Part of him had known it all along, but the actual confirmation was a gut-punch.

She’d stayed.

He’d disappeared, and she’d stayed here. For five years. Without him.

Which meant she wouldn’t be walking in the door any minute, lost and confused like he was. She could be literally anywhere. Anywhere in the fucking world. She could be completely off the grid. She could be with someone else. Married, even…

She could be-

“We’ll find her, Matt,” Foggy assured him, obviously sensing Matt’s spiral. “As soon as we can get back online, we’ll find her.”

“But what if…,” Matt replied, his voice shaking as he tried to articulate his deepest fear. “What if she’s not even ali-”

“No! Don’t even go there. Don’t think the worst. Look, why don’t you pack a bag and come stay with me and Marci while we sort this out.”

“No. I think I need to stay here,” Matt replied. Calina had bought the place for a reason. Maybe she’d come back. He’d have to be here when she did. He opened his mouth to try to explain that to his friend but paused as he heard a noise in the stairwell. He cocked his head, zeroing in on the sound.

“What is it?” Foggy asked.

Matt recognised the cadence of the steps and the sound of the person’s breathing. He may not always know Karen by scent, but she was recognisable in other ways. “We have a visitor.”

He walked to the front door and pulled it open just as she reached it. Her tall body collided with his as she threw herself at him. Her long, slender arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her head in his neck.

Matt stroked his hand down her back, feeling the tremors racing through her. Hot, wet tears stained his shirt as she cried against him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”

She pulled back, wiping her hand across her face. “I’m sorry, I tried to keep it together all the way here, but I just-” she broke off on a sob.

Matt pulled her back into the hug and held her as she continued to weep. It was still so hard to fathom that he’d lost five years, but Karen’s reaction was making it feel very real.

Eventually, her tears ran dry, and she stepped out of the embrace. “Hi, Matt,” she said, letting out a watery laugh.

“Hey, Karen.”

“I came back too, ya know,” Foggy said with mock disgruntlement.

Karen jerked at the sound of his voice. “Foggy?”

“In the flesh.”

She gave Foggy the same long, crushing hug. When it was over, Foggy wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks. “Long time no see, I guess,” he joked.

The look she gave him must have been withering, because Foggy held up his hands in remorse. “Too soon?”

“Yes, Foggy. Too soon. Way too soon.”

“Sorry.”

Karen shook her head. “It’s okay. I…I just feel a little raw, you know. I bet you guys feel the same way - but for very different reasons.”

“You could say that,” Matt answered.

“You both must be so confused. I’m sorry I wasn’t here in the city when you first came back. I wanted to come as soon as I heard, but I couldn’t get a sitter at first. Then there was traffic on the Queensboro bridge and I had to go through the tunnel-”

“Wait, back up,” Foggy said. “Sitter? Does that mean…?”

Karen nodded, and Matt could hear the pride in her voice. “I’m a mom, now. I have a little girl.”

———

Half an hour later, when all the furniture was uncovered, the dust cleared from the surfaces, and the three of them were sitting around Matt’s kitchen table eating take-out, Karen told them about her 21-month old daughter, Izzy.

“It’s short for ‘Isabelle’. It was David's mother’s name. She died when he was young, and he wanted to honour her memory.”

“So David’s the father?” Foggy asked. “Are you guys married?”

“We were. Briefly. Things, um, didn’t work out. He’s not really a part of Izzy’s life.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said.

Karen shrugged. “I have Izzy. And we’re happy together. She’s amazing. Just so…joyful. Every day she learns something new, and I learn what kind of person she’s going to be - her personality is really starting to shine through, and its wonderful.”

Foggy reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “I’m really happy for you, Karen.”

“Thank you. I’m not saying the last five years haven't been awful, but I was one of the lucky ones, you know? I found a reason to keep going. To keep hopeful about the future.”

“Can you tell us about the last five years? About what happened?” Matt asked gently - he was desperate for more answers, but could sense it was a deeply traumatising subject.

Karen took a deep breath. “You don’t know?”

“Just that it had something to with someone named Thanos.”

“Yeah,” Foggy added. “Marci’s parents started to explain, but they just kept breaking down in tears. And with the internet down, we’re in the dark ages, information-wise.”

“Wow,” Karen said. “It- it’s so hard to know where to start. Thanos has loomed so large in all of our lives for so long. It’s so strange to think that you don’t even know who he is.” She launched into an explanation of infinity stones, and the all-powerful alien obsessed with using them to bend the universe to his will. It would have sounded fantastical and far-fetched on any other day, but not today.

Not after what Matt had experienced this morning.

And the matter-of-fact way Karen - his no-nonsense, intelligent and rational friend - recited the information convinced Matt of it's truth.

“None of us knew what had happened at first,” she went on. “Everyone just started disappearing. I was on a coffee run - do you remember Foggy?”

“Yeah, you said you were sick of burnt coffee and wanted something frothy and delicious.”

“Yeah,” Karen whispered. She was quiet for a few moments, as if reliving the time in her life where her biggest concern was a caffeinated beverage. “I was on my way back from the coffee shop when the man walking towards me just…disintegrated. Turned to dust. I stood there, frozen in the street, as more and more people vanished. And it was quiet. So eerily quiet, at first. There were no screams, no cries for help. Just dust in the air. And I waited there, on the sidewalk, heart pounding, for it to happen to me. But it never did.”

“Then what happened?” Foggy asked.

Karen laughed wryly. “Then it was anything but quiet. It was pandemonium. Planes fell out of the sky. There were blackouts across the city. The rioting started soon after that. Then the mass suicides - the evangelicals thought it was the rapture, and that they’d been left behind. The vice president had to step in because the President disappeared, and she ordered martial law on the streets. When we finally got news out of Wakanda-”

“Wakanda?”

“That’s where it all went down. We found out it wasn’t the rapture, or some chemical weapon, or any of the hundreds of other theories that flew around those first few days. It was just some megalomaniacal asshole from another planet who’d decided that the way to solve the universe’s problems was to eradicate half of it. Half of everything - every person, every animal, every insect - just gone, with one snap of his fingers.”

Karen went quiet again, as if reliving the trauma. Matt tried to imagine what it must have been like at the time - the confusion, and panic and fear.

Probably not so different from this morning. And it made him wonder which scenario was worse: watching those around you disappear…or being one of the returned, suddenly thrust back into a world that had moved on without you.

“Sorry,” Karen said after a few long moments of silence. “Like I said, it’s so strange to talk about it. Up until this morning, every adult on the planet had lived through it. And we never really discussed it much. It was always there - the grief, and the loss - but everyone tried to ignore it. Even though we knew it was probably eating us away from the inside.”

Matt took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it anymore today. Me and Foggy have plenty of time to find out the rest by ourselves. But…”

“What is it?”

“Do you know anything about Calina?” Matt asked, figuring it was a long shot. Karen and Calina hadn’t been close back in 2018. They’d gone shopping together once, and had been friendly to each other around the office, but Calina had always been closer to her Widow sisters. “Do you know where she is?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

Matt frowned. Karen’s words seemed truthful. And her tone was sympathetic. But there was something off about the way she said it…and the way she was shifting slightly in her seat. “What aren’t you telling me? Is she okay? Is she- is she still alive?”

Karen started in surprise. It was her turn to squeeze Matt’s hand. “Yes. I’m sorry, Matt. Yes, as far as I know, she’s alive.”

Matt frowned again. “As far as you know? What does that mean?”

“Sorry, I’m messing this up. I don’t know what to say-”

“Just say the truth, Karen.” Matt tried to control the anger creeping into his voice. But he didn’t know why Karen was being so cagey about this.

“I just meant that I haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks. And what she’s doing is often dangerous-”

“Dangerous? Why? What is she doing?”

“She’s a Black Widow again, Matt.” Karen’s voice was soft, gentle. As if she knew the news would be a blow to Matt.

And it was. Matt stood up from the table, the plates and glasses rattling with the sudden movement. He backed away, shaking his head. “She- she was out. She was out of that life. She didn’t want it anymore.”

The Calina of yesterday - his yesterday - didn’t want to fight anymore. She didn’t want a life of violence and danger. She was going to be a translator. She was going to help people with her other gifts. And she’d been happy with that choice. More than happy - she’d been excited about finally finding her purpose in her new life.

“Matt, the world needed her,” Karen explained. “It needed the Widows - the ones who were left, anyway. Most of the Avengers disappeared, and it was all hands on deck to try to keep civilisation from completely collapsing. That first year…it was bad. It was really bad - all across the world. So she suited up again. The UN scrapped the Sokovia Accords, granted the Widows full immunity, and they’ve been out there all this time helping to keep everyone safe.”

Matt stood still, head bowed, hands on his hips, as he tried to process how much Calina’s life had changed these past five years.

“Can you call her?” Matt asked, not even trying to disguise the pleading in his voice. “Please? I need to know she’s okay.”

“I don’t have a way to contact her,” Karen replied. “Its safer for her that way. She checks in with me every few weeks-”

“She didn’t call today? When this all happened?”

“No. But when she does, I’ll tell her to come to New York. I promise, Matt.”

———

Karen left shortly after, needing to get back home to her daughter. Matt cleared away the plates and stowed the leftovers in his fridge. He grabbed the last two remaining bottles of beer and passed one to Foggy. Then, in unspoken agreement, they both collapsed on to the couch, as if needing to sit with the enormity of it all for a while. Silence reigned as they sipped on the drinks, both of them feeling a little shell-shocked by the events of the day.

Foggy placed his empty bottle on the coffee table, the clink of glass meeting wood the only sound heard for the past half an hour. “It’s fucking crazy, man. It’s just…crazy.” He shook his head. “Five years. Five YEARS.”

Matt laughed, a choked-off, bitter sound. It seemed the safest response - the alternative was to scream. Or punch a hole in the wall. “Yeah.”

“Five years!”

“I know.”

“What do we even do now? Do we exist, like from a legal standpoint? What about our bank accounts and credit cards? If Karen hadn’t bought dinner tonight, would we have starved?”

“We wouldn’t have starved,” Matt responded, laughing in humour this time.

“But what about our careers? Can we still practice law? I don’t even know who the District attorney is. Fuck, I don’t even know who the President is!”

“Foggy, relax. Those are relatively easy problems to solve in the grand scheme of things. Once we get back online we can find out all those answers. You have a roof over your head, you have Marci, you have your friends. Everything else will sort itself out.”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, calming down a bit. “Shit. I’m sorry, man. Here I am stressed about legalities, and you’re still in the dark about Calina.”

“I know she’s alive. Or, at least, she was, up until a few weeks ago.”

“That’s something.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them sounded convinced. Matt especially - because until he could ‘see’ her in person, and know that she was truly safe and unharmed, he wouldn’t be at peace.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to mine?” Foggy asked. “I don’t feel right just leaving you here alone.”

“It’s fine. You need to get back to Marci. I’ll be fine. I need to go out anyway.”

“You’re going out as Daredevil? Tonight?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it, Matt. You’ve had a major, life-altering shock today, and you haven’t slept in, what, 36 hours?”

“About that.”

“I don’t think anyone - not even the Almighty himself - would blame you for taking the night off.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue...but found himself nodding instead. Saying he was going out on patrol had been more of a reflex than anything else. When the truth was, for the first time in a long time, Matt didn’t want to suit up. He didn’t want to fight tonight. He didn’t want to wade back out into the chaos. He knew he should - that it was his duty and his responsibility - but he couldn’t find the strength to do so.

And it had nothing to do with a lack of sleep.

He wanted - just for tonight - to be selfish. He wanted to stay in the familiarity of his apartment and wallow for a while in the absolute fucking unfairness of it all.

Five years.

He kept coming back to those two little words. Like Foggy, he just couldn’t comprehend that timescale.

Five years.

He’d lost five years of his life.

No. Five years of his life had been stolen from him. Then he’d been dropped back into this new and foreign world to flounder and flail in confusion.

Five years of his life…gone in an instant.

And he knew he wasn’t the only person dealing with this tonight - half the universe was, apparently. But that didn’t bring much comfort. Because while the event was the same, the individual circumstances were unique to each and every person.

And his unique circumstances just straight-up fucking sucked.

He’d lost Calina. The woman he loved more than life itself. The woman he was planning a future with just yesterday…

A future that had been ripped away.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe with missing her. With worrying about her. With wondering what her life had been like these past five years, and what she was doing right at this moment.

Was she missing him, as much as he was missing her?

Was she safe?

Was she hurt?

Was she even alive?

———

7000 miles away, in a medical facility in Wakanda.

The doctor addressed the tall red-head, still dressed in blood-splattered black leather. “You need to decide now. The longer we wait, the less chance there is of the treatment working.”

His voice was calm and measured - a stark contrast to the chaos behind him. The wounded from the fight this morning had been arriving all day, the sparking yellow circles providing a shortcut between the high tech medical facility in Africa and the scorched battlefield in upstate New York.

The shouts of the medical personnel, the cries of the injured, and the screaming alarms of the machinery made it hard for Anya to think. But she knew what was right for her friend. “Do it.”

The petite Widow at her side protested. “But she’ll be unconscious for weeks!”

“What’s the alternative, Inessa? You heard what he said - her legs are completely crushed. Without this treatment, they’ll have to be amputated.”

“But she doesn’t even know that we’re back - that everyone came back. That Matt came back! She deserves to know that before she’s put in a coma for a month!”

“Look at her legs, Inessa! There’s no amount of morphine in the world that will spare her from that pain. We wake her up now, she’ll be in too much agony to think about Matt. The shock might even kill her!” Anya turned back to the doctor, patiently waiting by the side of the pod. “Do what you have to do to save her. Please.”

The doctor nodded and pressed the button, sealing up the pod.

A mist of medicated air filled the device, obscuring Calina from view.

————–

Chapter 3

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

#daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #tabula rasa #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x original female character #matt murdock #marvel's daredevil #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x oc #daredevil fandom

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bysaber · 1 year ago

Text

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

Pairing: Dabi x f!Reader

Summary: You remember moments of your relationship with Dabi, regretting it all. Inspired by the song with the same name by Taylor Swift.

Content: angst, toxic relationship, mature content, light smut (brief oral f!receiving) mentions of marking/burning, alcohol, we don’t see Dabi’s side of the story but it is implied he took advantage of reader’s kindness

WC: 1.3k

A/N: I actually had thought about writing this one since I first listened to the song last year but for some reason I never did. Now I wrote it all in… two hours? while listening to it on repeat. I’m super anxious to post this one !! and no beta’d, we die like men.

Licking your lips, you felt the salty taste of your tears mixed with the sweet wine you were now drinking. His large t-shirt engulfed your body as you sat on the floor with nothing but a bottle and a cigarette.

“Who am I?”, a whisper escaped from your lips, blurry eyes scanning your room.

The worst thing about being left behind was having to face the remains of those who left you.

And that's what you had to deal with, day after day.

Dabi was gone, but he was everywhere.

His toothbrush in your bathroom, untouched. His clothes in your wardrobe, never washed - you can still smell him as if he was standing by your side.

No, as if your nose is deeply pressed against his neck inhaling his scent like you did all the times he had his arms wrapped around you - touching, kissing, fucking. Needing. You always needed each other all too much.

“No,” you say aloud. “I needed you. Alone.”

His fingerprints are burnt into your headboard. A vivid reminder of the night you felt too much, the night he came inside you so hard he lost control of his Blue Flame and left his mark on your bed.

“I actually like it,” he said afterwards, the same fingertips now pressed on your waist firmly. “It’s a constant reminder of who you belong to.”

“Are you saying you marked your territory?”, you scoffed, trying to push him with a smile on your face. Dabi pulled you harder against him, brushing his nose on your cheek before biting on your jaw.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he licked the skin where he just had bitten and laughed teasingly. “I want my fingerprints burnt on your skin next.”

The memory hit you like a truck.

You quickly pulled a pillow from the bed at your side and screamed into it, the air leaving your lungs at how loud you screamed. But it wasn’t enough.

You screamed again, again. And again.

Your screams weren't purging the pain.

Your throat was sore already, and you took three big gulps of the wine to try and ease it all.

Your mind felt foggy,

and yet–

All you saw was Dabi.

Dabi. Dabi. Touya.

“I don’t like alcohol.”

“Yeah?”, the dark-haired smiled, putting down his beer. “Why?”

“It makes me act like I’m not myself. And I black out super quick,” you already had your answers ready. “And the terrible hangovers.”

Dabi laughed, truly, honestly laughed. He looked around the diner you chose to eat with him – somewhere empty so no one would see the both of you.

Not only because he was a wanted man. But because he was so different from you, and people would talk if they saw the two of you together.

Your friends would talk, your family would.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, it's just…”, he laughed a little more. “You said alcohol makes you act like you're not yourself. I guess I do the same.”

If only you had listened, you would've escaped him. You could have. You should have.

But you stayed. You stayed because he made you feel things you’ve never felt before, he made you feel important and alive. He gave you the thrill to live.

The way Dabi looked at you, you could never forget– his half-lidded gaze, always full of lust and passion, as if there were nothing in the world he wanted more.

The way Dabi spoke to you at different moments of the day, teasingly or just so full of confidence. Sometimes, you could swear his voice was filled with adoration.

“What a beautiful thing like you is doing in a place like this at 1 a.m.?”

It was the first thing Dabi ever said to you.

As you were sitting alone at the docks near your apartment, your feet swinging above the water, he came to you. The presence of another person, especially a man, scared the shit out of you, so you immediately stood up and faced him – you took his appearance fully in the faint light and you remember thinking how handsome he was, scarred and everything.

Scary, yes. But handsome.

“I didn't realize it was so late. I’m going to meet my boyfriend,” you lied, afraid he might do something bad.

A smirk appeared on his lips, “Sure, doll. Want me to keep you company until you meet this boyfriend of yours?”

You shivered and stepped back, “No. I’d like to be going by myself, thank you.”

When Dabi noticed you were genuinely scared, he dropped the act right away, “Look, doll. I ain’t gonna hurt you. But I’d rather take you out of here before a guy worse than me finds you.”

Worse than me, you noticed.

“Let me take you home, will you? Because shit’s about to go down here,” he confessed.

“Right… okay,” you said mostly because you didn't know what to do. Whatever was about to go down, you wanted nothing to do with it.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised and you immediately lowered your head to hide your tinted cheeks. If he noticed, he never commented on it, “While we’re on it, why don't you tell me why you’re here so late, huh? No boyfriend shit, angel.”

What were you doing there, again?

Ah, yeah.

You went there because you had an anxiety crisis – college stuff. You were nineteen years old.

College. Fuck, you dropped it months ago.

Why did you do it, again? You can't remember.

Something about working for real to buy a house. For you and Dabi.

A strangled sound scares you, but then you realize it's the sound of your own laugh. Choked, painful, bitter.

“Dabi!”, his name leaves your lips as a prayer.

“Say it again, doll,” he demanded, stopping his worship just to talk to you. “Say my name.”

You cried out his name countless times, his tongue circling your clit teasingly while two of his fingers fucked you the way he knew you liked all too well. When you faintly cried, “Touya…”, he rutted pathetically against the mattress as he sucked on you.

His fingers were quickly out of you, both of his arms around your legs, pulling your cunt closer to his face. In one quick glance, there was devotion. “I want you making a mess on my face, got it, doll?”

“Fuck you, Dabi,” you barked to the empty room, your words slurred.

You refused to call him Touya. He wasn't Touya to you. Not now. Not anymore.

He wasn't anyone to you.

“Fuck you, fuck you.”

You stood up, immediately regretting it as everything pinned around you. Closing your eyes, you tried to count to ten before walking towards the bathroom. What you saw in the mirror scared you; a ghost of who you used to be.

You were messy. You were a mess. You doubted your value and you felt ugly in every way possible – inside and out. The bags under your eyes and the way you were neglecting your appearance didn't help your self-esteem.

Dabi left two months ago. How could you possibly still be so miserable?

Rage filling your chest, you went back to your room and grabbed your phone. You wouldn't call him – the idea of hearing his voice made you want to puke from anxiety. But you would text him, yes. You needed to hurt him as much.

You needed to.

As you opened your messages with him, you saw it – the last texts you sent.

please.

don’t do this

touya. please, come back

touya?

I miss you.

He never opened them. It angers you even more as you type:

I hwte you. I hate you for all you did to mw

I regret you all thw time

I miss who I wss befpre I met you

I cant let this go

After months with nothing from him, your heart drops when the messages immediately go from sent to read.

#wbysaber #thirsty saber #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #toya todoroki x reader #todoroki toya x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfic #oneshot #dabi x you

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rayan12sworld · 8 months ago

Text

💠🧡drag my teeth across your chest

By:ana_cp

Summary:

“What if we’re soulmates, Lan Zhan?” his voice is still hoarse from sleep. “What if it’s you and me?”

“It’s always you and me.” Lan Zhan says simply. “Things wouldn’t change.”

Wei Ying tries not to scream at how good those words feel. But Lan Zhan means something else, he means friendship, and that’s not what Wei Ying is asking. Because of course it would be a big change. Being soulmates would change everything.

He sighs, forcing himself not to curl into his best friend’s warm body, and tries again.

“I’m serious. What if I’m your soulmate? Would you… What would you do?”

His heart beats like a hummingbird’s wing inside his chest, the anticipation unbearable as Lan Zhan licks his lips and prepares for answering.

“If you’re my soulmate,” Lan Zhan pauses, thinking of his words carefully. “I will love you until the end of my days.”

Soulmate AU where, once you're an adult, you start sharing your senses with your soulmate. It starts with only one sense, such as sight or hearing, but eventually, as you get closer together, you start sharing everything.

Chapter:5/5

Words:60,044

Status:completed

I'm cried even though I knew it's happy ending, how can they be this stupid 😭

Something about this isn’t right, his still foggy brain thinks as he finds his window from the outside, and the only living creatures there are a dozen sleeping cats. There’s a thought right at the corner of his mind, banging on the front door of his brain, but Wei Ying’s head feels weird, the air feels too cold on his hyper-sensitive skin, and there’s a chance he might be getting a headache. He thinks back to the dream he had, the empty theatre, and as he does, the image comes back with full force. This time, as he’s watching, it moves a little, tilts down until he’s looking at his own pale fingers holding a bow, his other hand tight on violin’s strings. It’s blurry, shaky, but he can still recognize the place anyway. It’s his college’s auditorium. All of a sudden, the wave of understanding hits him, the knowledge that he’s been waiting to believe for what feels like his entire life. Lan Zhan isn’t here. But Wei Ying can definitely, for sure, hear him.

~~~

Somewhere in here, if he’s right, Lan Zhan is playing his song right now. Wei Ying runs.

He can hear Lan Zhan’s breathing, as well. “Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan whispers, and Wei Ying shouldn’t hear it, couldn’t possibly hear it, he’s too far, Lan Zhan’s voice is too low- He takes a step down. Then another. Slowly, he makes his way to the stage, trying to catch his breath, eyes focused on the man in front of him. Lan Zhan is shocked to see him there, Wei Ying can practically feel the confusion inside him as he stands there and waits. He has the violin on one hand and the bow loosely secure on the other, and when Wei Ying finally picks up his pace and starts running towards him, he moves. “Wei Ying, what are you-” Wei Ying climbs upstage and throws his body on him strong enough to take them both down, but Lan Zhan is strong, god, he’s so strong, and he wraps his arms around Wei Ying easily, steadying his feet on the ground. Lan Zhan makes a tiny sound as the air leaves his lungs, but there’s no time to say anything or even ask why, because Wei Ying is breathless, smiling and so in love, kissing him, his soulmate , for the first time. For the thousandth time. Wei Ying can feel the press of the violin on his back, but it barely registers. Lan Zhan’s lips on him are soft, but not gentle, and his body is a welcomed stone of warmth that feels exactly the right shape for him to curl himself around and make a home. They were wrong. They were both so, so wrong. He pulls back with a gasp, knowing he smiled the whole way through the kiss. “Lan Zhan.” he says, but the huge grin on his face makes it hard to even speak. He breathes in again. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. It’s us.”

#wangxian #wangxian recommendations #mdzs #mxtx mdzs #wangxian fanfic #ao3 recs #the untamed #mdzs fanfic rec #mdzs wwx #lwj x wwx #wwx #mdzs lwj #lwj #wangxian fic rec #drag my teeth across your chest #soulmates #modern au #completed fic

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obsidiancreates · 9 months ago

Text

One Undead To Another (Chapter 5)

(Trigger warning for more vampire vs ghost fighting, general brain fog, Shawn convinced he's hallucinating/has brain damage, Shawn turning into a vampire and all the anguish that entails.)

“I need you, Shawn! You can’t leave me alone! Wake UP!”

It’s the first anything Shawn is aware of. Before he can feel his own body, hear anything around him, before he can see.

He hears Gus, begging and distraught, and it pulls Shawn back to the world.

It takes a couple of tries, but he opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, and he must have brain damage, because even as it clears up he sees not only Gus bent over him sobbing, but his grandma.

Who died when he was three.

“Oh my god, Shawn!” Gus doesn’t even bother to wipe his face, just pulls Shawn up into a hug- but pushes Shawn away just as fast. “Don’t even think about drinking my blood while I’m rescuing you right now.”

“Wh… wha?” Shawn’s voice cracks and scrapes against his throat. He’s parched. Dry like a desert, or his own dating life for all of highschool. “Wha’ th’ hell…”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. And I’m pretty sure Lassie and Jules are wiping the floor with the vampires.”

“... Wha?” Shawn tries to sit up, to figure out where he is and what is going on and why everything is numb but all he manages to do is turn his head a little. That’s not a good sign. Something bad happened to him.

His vision swims just from that simple movement, and when it refocuses he’s not sure it actually does. Lassie is driving a shard of wood into the chest of some nondescript person (Popsicle, he thinks, though he can’t make the connection why) as Jules fights like a woman possessed against… someone Shawn would put money on as being a lawyer, or some other equally extremely desk-bound job.

When he looks at her, some of the numbness goes away- because he’s suddenly very aware of his neck exploding with pain. He wants to scream, to thrash, to fall back into that Nothingness where pain didn’t exist and neither did he- but all he manages is a weak moan.

“Just hang on a little longer.” Gus loops his arms under Shawn’s armpits and, with great grunts and puffs of effort, stands just enough to begin dragging Shawn away somewhere.

And then a hand grabs onto Shawn’s leg. It should feel cold, Shawn’s mind supplies for reasons he can’t pinpoint. The hand doesn’t feel any colder than he does, though. … But now that he thinks about it, he is cold. Very cold. But he’s not shivering. Tick that next to the possible head trauma in the list of Very Bad Things To Wake Up To.

“I’m not dying without killing you and your stupid mouth,” a gruff voice growls (Gramv- he nicknamed these people at some point. This is an investigation, then?). Gramv yanks on Shawn’s leg, easily pulling him out of Gus’s grasp.

Bad guy. Right, he’s in danger, this man is trying to kill him, he’s barely able to move, Lassie and Jules are busy and Gus just almost got his arms dislocated and the rest of the people in the room can’t possibly be real because they’re dead. His vision is still not a hundred percent, but he zeros in on a candle by Gramv’s hand and his own leg.

He barely manages to twitch his leg, but it’s enough. The candle tips over and the burning wick catches the sleeve of Gramv’s robe, and apparently it’s a very flammable material because he lights up quicker than a clue at a crime scene.

“Heh.” Shawn wishes he could make a pun, but even if he could speak at the moment, he still can’t really think. It’s a sludgy, foggy, all-around unclear mess in his skull. He’s not used to it, and if he had a clearer head he’s be panicking over not having a clear head. There’s a word for that. He can’t remember it right now.

Gus grabs him again and drags him somewhere deep within the maze (oh, he recognizes this maze, that could be good or bad, but is probably both). Shawn watches Lassie and Jules fade into the stacks of useless forgotten whatever, and begins to nod off again. Then Gus props him up against one of the stacks and lightly taps Shawn’s face to wake him back up.

“I need you to try and stand. I can’t carry a grown-ass man up the world’s most unsafe stairs all by myself.”

“St’nd.” Still can’t get out full words without slurring them- he definitely has brain damage. What happened to him? “Yea.” Shawn tries to push himself up, but his arms collapse under him within seconds. He starts to tip to the side, and Gus has to reach out and steady him. “I don’... f-feel…”

“Okay. Okay, we can do this. I can do this. How many times have you gone boneles son me? It was all leading up to this.” Gus bounces on his heels while he hypes himself up. “Burton Guster, you are about to carry your best friend up these stairs.”

Gus slings one of Shawn’s arms over his shoulder, and manages to stand and support Shawn’s entire weight without any help from Shawn himself. He feels like a bundle of wet noodles, but knitted together to be really dense and heavy, and way too overcooked, just absolutely inedible.

… He’s hungry.

“G’s…”

“Just a little longer. Oh gosh… okay, we can do this.”

Someone else is supporting Shawn’s weight too.

“I’ve got him, Gus. I’ve got you, sweetie. Let’s get going.”

His grandma who isn’t real because she’s dead and Gus have to basically drag him up the stairs. Feeling starts to return to his legs as they go up, little by little, with each smack of his shins and ankles against the wooden slats pretending to be steps.

Feeling is returning everywhere. He almost wishes it wasn’t.

He is in serious pain.

His neck is the worst of it- it feels raw, dug at, deep and tender and he can’t even begin to imagine what a wound that feels like this must look like. He’s a little surprised Gus hasn’t passed out or thrown up at the sight, because it must be gruesome.

Almost as bad is his stomach. No, wait, it might be worse- his evaluation is shifting as awareness slowly trickles in. … Yes, his stomach is worse, though not by much. It burns. His stomach, his guts in general, they burn. They twist and ache and stab and he can picture them shredding each other apart inside of him, little claws and teeth on his spleen or whatever else is down there, he doesn’t know, he just knows it hurts.

“Gus,” he gasps out. Okay, full word, not slurred, maybe his head will be okay after all. “I-I don’t feel-” He grits his teeth. Good? No, it’s deeper than that. He doesn’t feel… “Right.”

“I know.” Is it that visible? It must be. His neck probably looks like Spam what a feral cat got into, if the way it feels is any reliable indicator. Gus gives Shawn’s arm a squeeze. They’re slowly moving down a hallway now- his grandma disappeared sometime between the top of the stairs and this halfway hallway point. That’s another good sign for the brain damage clearing up, or at least he hopes it is. “It’s just a little farther to the car.”

Something in him twists. It ties itself up in a knot, and then instead of unrevelling itself it cuts, splits apart and the pain is like a shockwave, ripping through his entire body starting in his guts moving out and settling most in his head and his mouth and god he’s parched and hungry and it’s all he can think about as he stumbles and falls out of Gus’s hold and the whole thing leaves his ear ringing and his heartbeat hammering in his…

… Skull…

… That’s not…

His…

Heartbeat…

Gus’s arm is under him again, but everything is a blur. A hazy, quickly-moving blur, because all he can take in is that heartbeat.

It’s racing, pounding, the heartbeat of someone in deep distress, and Shawn doesn’t know why but it’s amazing. It’s his favorite sound in the world, thumping against the inside of his skull and mixing with the shockwaves of pain, rippling out from his head into his body and his limbs and it feels good.

He doesn’t realize they’re at Lassie’s car until Gus is shoving him into the backseat and buckling him in. He would laugh, but it comes out a wheeze. Gus leans over into his space to buckle him in, and Shawn can’t sto staring at his neck. Smooth, soft skin, and his vision highlights the pulse…

“Do you taste as buttery as you look?” He feels consciousness starting to slip again- no, not consciousness. Awareness. They’re different, somehow.

“What?” Gus is only half listening, and Shawn needs to look away because staring at Gus’s neck is starting to make the pain worse, especially in his mouth…

He doesn’t have as much control over his head as he’d like, and it lolls, and Gus makes a choked gagging noise as the part of Shawn’s neck that hurts the most stretches out. There it is. That’s familiar. That’s good. Now he needs… he needs…

Gus is rooting around in Lassie’s glove compartment and that box-armrest-thing between the two front seats. Shawn can see his head, and his neck again, and he thinks his mouth would be watering if there was any water in his body. No, that’s not right, if he was that dry he’d be dead. Is he dead? If so then Gus is dead, that’s no good. Gus has a lot of life to live, and a way more productive one then Shawn’s will ever be, Shawn’s sure of it.

“I better not be dead so you’re not dead,” he mumbles as Gus comes back to the back door with a packet of wet wipes. “You don’t deserve to be dead.”

“What? Shawn, you’re talking nonsense.” Gus takes a deep breath, gags one more time, then swallows it and tilts Shawn’s head to he can clean Shawn’s neck. Clean it? Right, the wound. Probably blood.

Blood. He groans as his insides go to war, burning and twisting and tearing and dying and- and- and something else-

“Gus.” He paws at Gus’s shirt, pathetic and weak. “Gus, I’m hungry.”

Gus’s eyes widen, and Shawn sees panic- why? Gus swallows and keeps cleaning, but he’s shaking twice as bad now. “I already told you you better not. I will slap you, Shawn. Don’t think I won’t.”

Shawn laughs a little, and this time it actually comes out a laugh.

It hurts.

Gus’s pulse is highlighted again. The racing heartbeat is back in the forefront of Shawn’s mind. His mouth burns.

There’s a hand on his. Not Gus’s. It’s there and it’s not, and he’s felt it a lot of times since he woke up, and he’s still pretty sure it’s a symptom. But Gus is done cleaning, so Shawn turns his head to se ehis grandma, holding his hand.

“Focus on me, Shawn. Focus on me. You’re going to get through this without any of your friends getting hurt, okay?”

“Okay.” But what is this? He still isn’t sure. He still can’t remember. All he knows is he woke up and there was fighting and crying and pain and if his grandma is here he’s probably dead and so Gus is dead, he is, but that’s not fair because Gus shouldn’t ever be dead, Gus should never die and live forever-

“Stop that.” Her voice is sharp and firm- it sounds almost like his dad. It jolts him into a bit more awareness than he’s had since the hallway. “Don’t go down that thoughtpath. No more new vampires tonight.”

That… doesn’t… track. … But neither does his grandma being here. “What do you mean…”

She sighs, and then looks up and nods. “Look, your other friends are here.”

He turns his head to look past Gus, still kneeling by him and looking him over like Shawn might disappear at any moment. He’s not going anywhere though- he can’t even if he wanted to. Lassie and Jules, though, they can move. They run out of the front door of the creepiest, most horror-movie-worthy mansion in all of Santa Barbara covered in blood and dirt and ash, pouring sweat and the blood smells bad. Rotten. It makes Shawn angry, for some reason, until two more rhythms join the one already pounding in his ears. Their heartbeats. He wishes he was more sound of mind so he can pick apart the differences, appreciate the unique beats for his unique friends. They’re entrancing.

Gus slams Shawn’s door shut and runs around to the other side, sliding into the seat next to him. Jules and Lassie jump into their seats, and almost as soon as Lassie’s butt hits the pleather they’re peeling away at high speeds.

Shawn leans his head back, closing his eyes and listening to the three racing beats around him. His grandma’s hand is still over his. He can barely feel it.

“Is he awake?” Jules’s voice cuts through the beats, scratchy and ragged but beautiful, sweet and alluring, but if she wants to she can be overpowering and all-emcompassing and-and she’s like honey and he’s a fly and he’s so hungry.

“Kind of.” Gus’s voice is smooth, buttery as his well-cared-for-skin, rich, Gus is comfort and home and fun like a cup of hot coco and he’s so parched.

“What do you mean ‘kind of’?” Lassie’s voice is smooth too, but in a different way- more like a smooth cup of coffee, or smooth whiskey, something that should be bitter and harsh but when you appreciate it it isn’t, because Lassie is strong and steady and an assault on the senses in the best way and Shawn needs to have a taste of all of them.

“I’m starving.” His voice sounds strange- maybe he’s just not used to hearing himself so openly desperate. He’s used to feeling it, deep inside, but hearing it… based on the silence in the car, no-one else expected to hear it either.

“... How’s his neck, Guster?”

“I cleaned it up, but- oh, my god, I can’t look at it-”

“Do not throw up in this vehicle!”

“Carlton, that’s not the priority right now!”

Shawn laughs. He loves them. He loves them all so much. He wants to listen to them bicker forever. He wants to listen to their voices saying anything forever. He wants them, forever.

“Didn’t your grandmother tell you to stop that kinda thinking?” Rough, raspy, but not the way Gramv’s was- Shawn knows this voice better than any of the other hallucinations.

“Grandpa.”

“That’s right, we’re both here.” His grandpa is holding his other hand- that doesn’t make sense. The car isn’t shaped like that. He cracks his eyes open and sees his grandpa is halfway inside of the front passenger seat, sitting and leaning forward and holding his hand. Now he knows he’s hallucinating.

“He still thinks this isn’t real?”

“Be patient, dear. He’s processing a lot right now. It might not sink in for a while.”

“Right. Shawn, look out the window for me, would’ya?”

If his grandpa is a hallucination, it might be his brain trying to communicate something to itself. Shawn slowly turns his head, thunking it against the window to stare out into the nighttime sights of Santa Barbara. The glass should feel cool against his skin. It almost feels warm.

Gus had been really, really warm, now that Shawn thinks about it. Gus might have a fever. That sucks.

“Remember when you were a kid, and we’d sit on the bench and make up stories about people walking by?”

“Course. My one reprieve from dad.” His voice is still sluggish and quiet, but it’s coming back well.

“Let’s do that now, yeah? Tell me about uh… that guy there. What’s his story, you think?”

“I… I can’t… think right now, Grandpa. I’m hu-”

“I know, I know. We can eat after the game, how about it?”

“You can’t. You’re not real.”

“I’m dead, not imaginary. Indulge an old man, would you? How about… this girl. What’s her story?”

“... I… guess… she could be from anywhere, right? So… so she’s from Spain. She’s a… professional bull wrangler, for when they do the runs.”

“Good, good, I like that! And how about uh…”

“What about that fellow, with the giant hat?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He got that as a prize, for… for wrestling something big, like a… polar bear, or a whale.”

Everything begins to fade away as Shawn focuses on playing the game. He mumbles out stories, his grandparents encourage him, the heartbeats and the pain are still there but they blend into the background as his mind whirs and latches onto the task of making up stories. It becomes like a trance, a dream, and Shawn slips into it gratefully.

He’s blissfully unaware as the rest of the car have some difficult conversations.

#psychusa #psych #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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fanfictionisusuallylife · 11 months ago

Text

you're not saying you're in love with me (but you're going to)

❤ ao3 link in replies ❤

ship: kageyama tobio/hinata shoyo

words: 2,173

tags: Present Meets Future, Prophetic Dreams, New Year's Day

summary:

Shoyo meets a version of himself that has yet to come, and has a lot of questions.

---

“Wanna meet me at the shrine?” Shoyo types, as he watches the sun rise on New Year’s morning. It’s orange and a little foggy, and he’s bundled in blankets upon blankets to resist against the January chill. He doesn’t expect a reply immediately - Tobio doesn’t usually bother with the sunrise - but he gets one, the signature beep-beep-bzzz quietly interrupting his peace.

“Sure,” Tobio responds. He’s always been a dry texter, but this on its own makes Shoyo smile; he has only just started joining Shoyo on his suggested outings, after spending years of refusing on principle. Third year came with changes, Shoyo knew that, but his favourite was finally being closer to his - his - setter.

They walk together, the air still cold, Shoyo breathing out puffs of condensation. He remembers being young, only eight or so, pretending to be a dragon for his baby sister - he takes a hefty breath just to recreate that moment, and swears he sees a smile on Tobio’s lips.

Tobio is so beautiful. He’s tall, even with the inches Shoyo has gained - his skin is pale, with a yellowish tint. It seems as if his skin is preparing itself for a tan, but it hasn’t got one, like olives waiting for summer to ripen or sand waiting to be washed over by the waves. His hair is black, inky black, cut short so it doesn’t fall in his eyes anymore - Shoyo misses when it was longer, when his fringe brushed the bridge of his nose and the strands would flutter when he jumped. Staring at them made Shoyo feel fuzzy inside. Back then, he didn’t understand why.

Long fingers poke out of his sleeves - how on Earth did he manage to find a sweatshirt too big for him? - reminding Shoyo of the old white hoodie Tobio gave him back in first year. He’d grown out of it, he claimed, and Shoyo looked cold, and don’t read into it because that’s all there is - and Shoyo didn’t read into it, as he slept in it every night, wishing it still smelled like him.

This time next year, they’ll be on opposite sides of the world. Tobio’s managed to get himself picked up by the V-league fresh out of high school, because of course he has, and he’s got a guaranteed place with the Schweiden Adlers. Shoyo hasn’t been so lucky. His fate rests somewhere in Brazil, a trip set up by a family friend, where he’ll practise his jumps on sand instead of solid ground. Sometimes, the other side of the net felt like they were continents away, but Shoyo has come to realise that this is going to be more than the ache of his hands against the ball. It’s going to be total abandonment.

The shrine is busy. They’re lucky they got there as early as they did, but even with their haste it’s packed - people, couples, families swarm the grounds. Young women are here, holding hands with their lover, looking up at him with adoring eyes - Shoyo’s tummy can’t help but turn at the sight.

Tobio closes his eyes to make his wish. His eyelashes are so long, so dark, stark and contrasting against his pale skin. He looks peaceful, like a statue, like a petrified angel, like a hero carved in stone. Shoyo feels his heart sink into his chest, and himself fall deeper and deeper in love. He wants to tell Tobio, wants to tell everyone, wants to scream it from the rafters and yell it from the balconies and let the whole world know how he feels - but he’s not going to. Not yet.

His resolve hardens as he stares, like he has for years, at Tobio’s sloping nose and high cheekbones. This year, just this once, he’ll be selfish.

As long as he can remember, all those memories past, he’s wished for other people’s, his loved ones’, prosperity. Since the first time he did this, this old tradition from generations ago, he’s asked for his sister to grow up happy. Two years ago, he begged for his mother’s health to improve. Last year, he told the universe that he needed Tobio to grow into the man he always wanted to be. This time he changes his tune.

"I need to know how all this ends,” he prays to whoever is listening, silent but passionate, despairing but eternally hopeful. He wants the confusion and the fear to stop. He wants to know that the risk that he’s taking, moving away and leaving the man he’s sure is his soulmate, is all worth it. He needs - before he needs health before safety before riches - he needs certainty that this decision is the right one.

When his eyes open, Tobio is staring at him. His wish must’ve been much briefer than Shoyo’s - he assumes it must be something like, “please give me extra time to play volleyball. Thanks.”

He waits for Shoyo to finish, and they leave together, hands interlinked and buried in Tobio’s pocket.

They don’t talk about their wishes.

Sometimes they touch each other in ways they touch nobody else. They hold hands, sometimes, when Shoyo drags Tobio along - they linger in hugs and, once or twice, they've shared kisses.

They never talk about those touches.

It's a situationship, more than anything. They kiss sometimes, to relieve tension, but they aren't together - people who are together talk about the kisses, why they happen, when they want them. For Shoyo and Tobio, they might as well be secrets.

When they get this close, it’s just a transaction, and Shoyo tells himself that he’s content with that. Shoyo tells himself that there’s nothing more to it.

Shoyo lies.

His bed sheets are clean, dry, warm from his body heat. Stretching himself out, Shoyo yawns, his eyelids heavy, and pats over the left side of his bed. There’s a human-sized space under the blanket there that’s never been filled; he’s saving it for someone.

He doesn't feel the peace wash over him, like he thought he would. He's not instantly comforted, believing in the future or cosy in the uncertainty. He's the same as always, the same dusting of freckles on his nose and the same stuffy bedroom and the same longing ache that never seems to leave. He’s the same as always; he wonders if this is the result of his New Year’s Wish.

Shoyo isn’t sure when he drifts off, into his usual fervent sleep, his legs starfishing out underneath him, but he soon works out that he’s dreaming.

The walls around him are almost unseeable, sterile white and concrete. Leather seats, black and uncomfortable, sit in rows that never seem big enough, and the sounds of jet engines and chatter and tannoy systems fills the air. Before he deciphers where he is - an airport, he assumes, but he’s never quite sure which one - he sees the crowds, hundreds or even thousands of people rushing from one end of the lobby to the next, pushing through strangers and paying unimaginable costs for duty-free snacks. There are people in heavy trenchcoats, briefcases by their sides, checking their watches like a ritual - and families of five or maybe bigger all huddled in circles, sharing body heat and flight details.

Shoyo doesn’t know these faces; he knows he's seen them all before, and that he’ll never see them again. They're strangers, as they always have been; people he's passed in the street, shop clerks and train passengers.

When he sees himself, he has dainty hands. His wrists are small, and his legs are skinny - he's twelve, in his old favourite t-shirt. It doesn't fit anymore - bulking up will do that - but he kept it for the memories; he never thought he'd see himself in it again.

One of the strangers walks up to him, and he's familiar - he knew this stranger once, or perhaps he has yet to know him.

The stranger isn't much taller than he is - he's got a broad chest, tanned skin, brown eyes. He smiles and there's something in his grin that feels embedded in Shoyo’s past. His hair is short, but it's clearly been a while since it was last cut - it gets in his eyes slightly, sweeping over his freckled ears and curling loosely at the base of his neck. His hair is unmistakable - it's hair Shoyo knows as well as his own, sees in the reflections of puddles and storefronts. Shoyo knows for certain that this hair is his, and yet the man in front of him - bulky arms, thick thighs - is someone he has never met. He knows Shoyo, though, and such a thing is evidenced in the crinkles by his eyes.

“...what will happen?” he asks the stranger. He has a feeling he knows, better than anyone - he’s certain that this is his one chance to know the truth. “How will it all end?”

“It won’t be easy,” confesses the stranger, who isn’t a stranger at all. “You feel… like you might just break. You'll go about your routine - one foot in front of the other. You'll jump high and you'll make stupid jokes and start stupid fights. It won’t feel any different, for a while.”

And then the stranger - the friend, really - says something Shoyo knows.

“You can fly even higher."

"I know," Shoyo responds - Tobio told him that in first year, and he internalised it, wore it as both an achievement and a challenge. He remembers that day, hearing those words, and longing to fall into Tobio's arms. "But will I?"

Three little words. How much of his life, the friend wonders, has been ruled by the strife of these words. It’s three tiny words, but it makes the friend falter - he sees insecurity, strife, the worries of a boy who daren’t stop shining.

“You will soar.”

There are three more words that Shoyo needs to hear, but not from the friend. There’s someone else who needs to say them.

As for the friend-

“Brazil,” he starts, “is warm at night.”

“And the beaches-”

“You feel the sand beneath your feet. It’ll make your wings stronger.”

Shoyo’s spine starts to tingle, as if arching black wings will sprout from them any moment. He pauses; there’s one more thing he wonders about. The friend - a man who may even be a brother - knows just what he’ll ask.

“Tobio is stupid,” he responds, before Shoyo even opens his mouth.

“I know.”

“Even more than you think,” the brother barks a laugh. “You’ll text him sometime soon, it may even be tomorrow - you’ll tell him, and he won’t respond.” A frost forms in the brother’s voice, but he continues: “He’ll see you at practise, but he won’t say anything. You’ll… hate it. You’ll think he hates you.”

The brother is welling up. This isn’t what Shoyo needed to hear.

“Those moments will be some of the worst of your life.”

“Does he feel the same?" Shoyo rushes, infuriated that the brother is so cryptic. Just tell him, dammit, don't make him wonder.

The brother smiles, and it seems to be confirmation. “Yeah, and he’ll tell you, so hang tight.”

Heaving a breath, Shoyo tries to relax, but the brother starts on a tangent.

“The day you return to Japan-" he says, "he'll meet you at the airport. His hair will be messy." He sounds like he's recounting a memory, and his eyes glaze over. "And he'll put his hands around your waist."

"And?"

"And his hands are big. Strong. You won't remember them being as strong as they feel in that moment. He lifts you up, and," he sounds dreamy, "kisses you then and there. Everybody is watching and it doesn't matter at all."

A kiss other people can see, thinks Shoyo. He's never been kissed that way before.

"He puts you down and holds you close. You feel his hands on your back and breath on your neck."

Shoyo sharply intakes air. He's not sure he can still breathe. Whatever the brother describes next, Shoyo thinks he might just faint.

"And then?"

"He kneels... and you know the rest."

"What? No, tell me-"

The stranger, friend, brother, all of these things at once, looks Shoyo in his brown eyes. Eyes that he shares. Eyes that belong to him, because the stranger is him, has always been, down to the creases in his palms.

His hair is stark orange, fluffy, longer than Shoyo’s - and he shows his hand. A golden band, simple, probably engraved, lies around his ring finger. He gives a parting smile that feels like safety.

Shoyo's alarm wakes him up, and he's not in his bed - he's sprawled across the floor, having kicked off his covers, and he's confused, disoriented, asking himself the time.

He thinks of the future.

He may not remember the dream - but all of a sudden, he knows for sure that he’ll be okay.

He grabs his phone, opens his messages, and decides today's the day.

"Hey Kageyama," he reads aloud as he types. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

#hinata centric #hinata shouyou #kagehina #kageyama tobio #haikyuu!!#ship fics #shipfic #taylor fics #tobio kageyama #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata #shouyou hinata #haikyū!!#haikyuu

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tf2-oneshots · 1 year ago

Note

scout discovers the spiderverse but it's alt versions of scout?

basically across the scoutverse please

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

Engineer wipes sweat from his forehead as he twists a final screw into place. With a grunt, he steps back from his latest invention to do a final inspection. Everything seemed in order. The bolts and welded metals hold strong, and the numbers on the adjacent screen were reading normal. Its an advanced teleporter, one meant to jump entire cities. Hell, states even if he keeps working!

Right as Engineer reaches for his test subject, an apple, explosions can be heard. He turns to the door, eyes widening behind his goggles as a screaming Scout is shot through the doors. The young man is launched straight into the wobbly plasma of the teleporter. Bits of metal and concrete land against the machine, altering its original trajectory.

“Scout—!” Before he can stop it, the machine goes offline with a tremble and screech from the computer. Engineer panics and rapidly tries to find out where Scout landed, but its no use. He can’t do anything! Alarms and sirens sound from the massive teleporter then, with a weak groan, it powers down.

“Show yourself, maggot!” Soldier marches into the destroyed workshop, glancing around as if nothing happened. His search is cut short by an angry Engineer grabbing him by the throat with a metal hand.

“Soldier, what the hell did you just do?” Hardhat crooked from his anger, venom seeps from Engineer’s mouth. His entire project, gone! Ripped from his hands before he could properly test it!

“I was playing grenade tag and elected Scout as my partner! That pansy didn’t even bring grenades!” He chuckles despite Engineer throwing him to the ground. The Texan runs back to the machine and starts his repairs. Hopefully, Scout’s alive somewhere.

Where Scout ends up is his room. Well, sorta his room. He crashed onto the bed, which does have his favorite comforter, and landed on the floor. Still, something isn’t right. When did he buy a poster for the band French Brigade? Is that even a real band? Why are there a bunch of discount perfumes and loose tampons on his vanity? When did he even get a vanity??

As Scout turns to run out the door, he sees a woman standing in the doorway. A woman who looks almost identical to him! The only difference between them being their shoe size and a baseball bracelet on her wrist. Immediately, they both start screaming.

“Get the hell out of my room!” She charges in, ready to beat the oddly handsome stranger into a pulp. Both Scouts reach for their bats, hitting each other on the head at the same time. The act knocks both of them out, and they collapse into an unconscious pile on the floor.

Scout awaken with a slap across the face and ice water dumped over his head. He jerks upright, eyes rapidly blinking to focus on the curious face before him. Its a woman with smile lines to her chin that looks identical to Medic. She steps away to reveal another woman wearing overalls.

“Evening, dearie.” Aside from being British, there’s little difference between her and Scout’s Engineer. They’re a similar height and build, but her prosthetic is on her left leg. The same goes for the Medic. Her graying hair is styled the same, but instead of a dove, a parakeet is on her shoulder.

“I bet you’re wondering how you wound up here. Does this machine look familiar, love?” She gestures to a massive teleporter exactly like the one Engineer was building. Scout groans and nods slowly. His head is still foggy from being knocked out, but everything is slowly coming back.

“I think so. I got thrown into one because Solider played—“

“Rocket tag!” At that shout, a rocket bursts through the doors and lands behind Scout. The explosion sends him straight through the teleporter for a second time. Scout lets out a scream as he gets sent to yet another dimension.

Now, Scout is plummeting through the sky. He screams again, eyes squeezed shut in preparation for the deadly impact. So, this is how he dies? Far away from gis friends and family, no way of ever getting back. Hopefully, he splatters somewhere dignified.

“Falling flan!” A flash of light, and Scout lands on a squishy, sweet smelling surface. It’s a giant flan! He stands, slipping a bit before finding his balance. As he looks around, a figure lands behind him. Its him…sorta. This Scout is wearing one of those magical girl costumes Pyro’s shows always have.

A giant red ribbon is tied around his torso, and the layered dress is white with red and pink accents. His curling black hair holds pink bows that match the delicate gloves on his hands and the ankle boots on his feet. The entire outfit is the girliest thing Scout has ever seen!

“That was close! How’d you get so high in the sky, stranger?” Before Scout can even utter a word, his body turns transparent. Like the crackling static of TV, he flickers before disappearing entirely. It leaves the heroic Scout confused as he slides off of the dessert to meet with the rest of his team.

Every time Scout lands, he’s met with another version of himself. Girl versions, ugly versions, that one Scout in his 40s. He even met an emo version! Strange as it was, it does make him consider buying a pair of skinny jeans. The constant flipping between dimensions seems endless until he lands face first in Engineer’s workshop.

“There you are, boy! He’s alive, y’all!” Its Engineer! The one Scout knows! Medic helps him stand, brushing the dust and remnants of flan off of his face. God, it feels good to be home!

“What did you see in there?” Medic asks as Heavy wheels a chair over to them. Scout takes his seat, head throbbing and eyes adjusting once again. He takes a glass of water offered and guzzles it before sighing.

“Dudes, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Hope the wait was worth it!! -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #femscout #femengineer #femmedic

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centipede-anon · 1 year ago

Text

It’s the final chapter baby!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48415930/chapters/123997957

Chapter 4

It was a relatively bright day out considering that the weather had been atrocious as of late. A bit cloudy, but at least it wasn’t storming so that’s nice. What wasn’t nice though, was the amount of food Peppino and his posse had in their possession. While they had been eating some meat Peppino hunted and the bit of leftover stock from Peppino’s Pizzeria, neither of those things were infinite. Eventually they would have to go out to hunt some more. Today seemed to be a good day to do that.

Peppino left Bruno’s maw to go out hunting for the day. Bruno couldn’t come as he was too big and the noise of him walking scares away any animals in the area. Gustavo couldn’t come either, he was just recovering from frostbite and needed to stay inside Bruno for the time being. Brick refused to come, not leaving Bruno’s side until he could be assured that Gustavo was fully recovered. With that in mind, Peppino grabbed his shotgun and left for the woods.

The snow storm may have left for hopefully a while, but there was fog. Trying to use a shotgun while it was foggy wasn’t exactly ideal but it was better than the snow storm. As he walked, he spotted the silhouette of a deer. Jackpot. He aimed his gun and then fired. As soon as he had shot the gun, the deer was laying on the ground. As much as he hated killing things, it was the only way he could reliably get food since the snow covering the ground was so thick he couldn’t plant any sort of crops.

He started taking the deer back, trying not to think all too hard about what he had done to the poor thing. As he walked though, he heard footsteps crunching in the thick snow. He looked towards the noise and tried to see who was approaching, hoping that it was someone he was at least acquaintances with. Soon he saw who it was, the one who started this whole thing in the first place. Pizzahead. He felt both scared and angry at Pizzahead, though his anger soon took over as he shouted, “YOU! What the hell are you doing back here!? Haven’t you already caused enough harm to me already!?”

Pizzahead simply came closer and laughed, “Woah, feisty aren’t we? Look I’m not here to hurt you or anything, I simply wanna play a little!” “As if you haven’t ‘played’ enough! Look at what you did to the world!” Peppino screamed loudly. He was sick of this pizza headed clown and last time that happened he had piledrived him into a tower. Pizzahead simply responded, “Oh well I do suppose there was a whole lotta collateral damage, but don’t worry too much about that. You’re fine and that’s what matters, not that I had any doubts about that!.”

Pizzahead got closer… maybe a bit too close for Peppino’s comfort, and his neck’s comfort considering Pizzahead was over 2 times his height. Peppino asked, “Why are you suddenly so glad that I’m alive?” “Well because now I can do this!” Pizzahead picked up Peppino and opened his mouth wide and then shoved him in. Peppino struggled as best he could, but despite this, Pizzahead got him down his gullet and into his stomach. “Ah, that’s better, now let’s get going!” Pizzahead strutted off somewhere.

Peppino was struggling for his life, unlike Bruno, Pizzahead’s body most certainly had a need for functioning organs, and thus had acid in his stomach. Oddly enough though, it didn’t hurt, more so just was a light tingle. Either way though, he could most certainly tell that his skin was being picked away at. Peppino yelled, “ARE YOU INSANE!? I-I’M GOING TO DIE IN HERE!” “Die? Peppino, you’re immortal like me, r-right? It couldn’t have been just dumb luck that you survived both the tower and the snow storm.” “No, I’m just a normal human! Please let me out, I can see some skin flaking off in here!” Peppino struggled more as he said this, hoping that if Pizzahead didn’t let him out, then he could fight his way out. Fortunately though, Pizzahead did let him out.

Surprisingly enough, he looked concerned and started looking at Peppino’s body for any sort of wounds. Luckily enough, there was nothing too bad that couldn’t be healed over time. Pizzahead looked at him in surprise, “You mean to tell me that that whole time, you just, survived my entourage of minions and bosses and me as well as the massive nuclear winter I set up? You’re not immortal, like, at all?” “Yeah, I mean, I got hurt by that acid. Why do you suddenly care about my well being?” Peppino asked as Pizzahead responded, “Well I got fascinated by you after the tower. I thought that you must’ve been some sort of immortal like me. So I had to test it out. I created a natural disaster that no human could survive. When I saw you out here, I thought you would be interested in knowing that there was another immortal out here. I suppose… I’ll be alone with my immortality for a little longer. How did you survive this long anyways?”

As if on queue, Bruno and Brick came up behind Peppino with thundering footsteps. Pizzahead looked up, scared, “Oh..” Bruno picked him up and growled loudly, “?onitoT ,ereh gniod uoy era tahW” “Well I was just you know having some… friendly banter with Peppino. You know, we’re such close friends!” Bruno growled again. “Alright, alright fine! I tried to eat him, but only because I thought he was immortal before!” Bruno was about to throw him before he screamed, “Wait wait wait! I-I know what I did was bad and all but I could help you! I can’t die, I can hunt for your friends' food! I could perform medical aid on your friends if you want!” Bruno huffed and looked at Peppino for his opinion. Peppino sighed and said, “Fine, you can stay. But I’m keeping a close eye on you.” Pizzahead sighed in relief as Bruno put him down. Brick snarled at him as he got dropped on the ground.

Peppino went back up to Bruno as he picked him up. “I got a deer for us, it’s back a little bit, but it should hopefully be there.” Bruno nodded in understanding before swallowing Peppino down. Peppino went down a few “floors” of Bruno’s holding pouch to find where Gustavo was. Gustavo saw him as Peppino came onto the third “floor” and quickly hugged him. “Peppino, where were you!? I was worried sick!” “Ugh, that Pizzahead guy tried to eat me alive because he thought that I was immortal or something… I do kinda feel bad for him though. Not enough to forgive him for putting this nuclear winter into action, but enough to allow him to stay near us,” Peppino averted his eyes, not sure of what Gustavo would think of him allowing Pizzahead near them. Gustavo simply sighed, “Well I suppose we should keep a close eye on him then. Just to make sure that he isn’t tricking us or anything.” “Yeah, I’m just glad you aren’t mad at me for allowing him to stay.” “Of course I’m not! You’re my top priority right now anyways. I’m just glad you’re not dead.” “Thanks Gustavo, means a lot.” With that they laid next to each other and fell asleep.

Bruno, Brick, and Pizzahead were just getting back to the cave. Pizzahead starts cutting into the meat and cooking it over the campfire. He starts to talk to Brick and Bruno, really hoping that at least they could be slightly friendly towards each other. After a few hours, dinner was ready. Gustavo had healed fully finally and decided to come out to see Pizzahead and Brick again. They ate dinner and told stories around the fire. That night, Pizzahead was allowed inside Bruno, though slightly reluctantly. None of them had nightmares that night. Maybe this apocalypse wouldn’t be all too bad.

#pizza tummy

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ritualoftheancients · 7 months ago

Text

Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 21: The Ritual

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.

*****

I found Emily’s white sedan—the bullet holes down the side from our wild flight out of Mount Hood made it pretty clear it was her car—in the parking lot along with half-a-dozen others, but no one was around. I wondered why Jack was still driving it, but that was a question for later.

I could tell I was close to the amulet now, because the voice in my head had begun to calm down. Now I could hear it only if I stopped and concentrated. It made me half wonder if the new voice had been there the whole time since I’d become a vampire, but I didn’t have time to ponder it right now.

A man—a human wearing a black suit and tie with a transparent earpiece over one ear—stepped out from between two of the cars. I tackled him, burying my fangs in his neck before he managed to cry out. For a few moments he flailed against my admittedly light weight on his back, but then he began to relax, sinking slowly down to the pavement. I drank eagerly and deeply for a few moments before pulling away. I didn’t want to kill the guy, only incapacitate him. He sprawled on the pavement, still breathing, but eyes glazed and groaning.

Feeling much better, I stood and looked around the parking lot, trying to figure out where everyone was. Several paths led off from the parking lot, one heading west, one north, and one southwest. I could smell smoke and see a faint glimmer off through the trees to the north, so I headed that way. Rather than walk on the path and make myself a target, I walked parallel to it, using the trees’ shadows as coverage. I probably should have been stealthy earlier coming into the park, but the voice screaming in my head had made thinking hard.

A ring of tiki torches came into view ahead. A woman in a business suit stood inside the circle, her back to me. She was talking to someone that I couldn’t see, in a voice too low for me to make out the words from this distance. There were about a dozen people scattered around keeping watch, but they were only human, and I easily spotted them with my vampire night-vision.

I could smell blood in the air. Several of the human guards had visible bite marks and torn clothing. The bites looked like dog bites. Or maybe jackal bites, I realized through the fogginess of my thoughts. I hoped Jack had fought his way free from this trap and was now somewhere safe.

Moving slowly, I circled around to avoid the two guards watching the path. My new position also gave me a better angle into the circle, but what I saw made my heart sink. He hadn’t gotten away after all. Jack and Zoe were being held by two black-suited security guards each. Handcuffs around Jack’s and Zoe’s wrists glinted in the torchlight. Jack looked pissed, and only because I’d spent so much time with him over the last few days was I able to tell how scared he was.

Now that I could see the business-suited woman’s face, I recognized Lady Ann from Kevin’s memory.

Lady Ann lifted a bowl up above her head and began chanting in a guttural language that I didn’t recognize. Meanwhile, the two guards on Zoe forced her to her knees, and the two holding Jack dragged him backwards out of the circle. Jack yelled and fought them, but with his cuffed wrists— and bound legs too I saw now—they had him overpowered. When Jack planted his feet and refused to move, one guard grabbed Jack’s hands, the other his feet, and they carried him away—dangling between them like he weighed no more than his clothing—and dropped him outside the circle.

“Change,” I hissed under my breath. “Jack, change and run away.” Why didn’t Zoe or Jack change? I prayed they did something, anything. Keeping supernaturals secret from humans was important, but at some point you had to just say screw it and opt for self-preservation.

The amulet was close, I could feel it, but I didn’t see it anywhere. With this many guards about, and the threat that they too were armed with silver-laced bullets like Lady Ann’s thugs last night, I didn’t dare make a move until I was sure where my target was. As I’d learned last night, my speed only helped so much. I needed to get the amulet back before I could help Jack. Not that I didn’t care about Jack more than the amulet, but if the voice screamed at me again while I was running away with Jack—and I knew it would if I got farther away from the amulet again—I’d probably collapse and then we’d both be caught, which wouldn’t improve either of our situations.

Something on the ground at Lady Ann’s feet glinted in the firelight. I tensed, ready to run, before I registered that it was silver and not gold.

Lady Ann finished chanting while I scanned for a sign, any sign, of where the amulet might be. I saw the bag Jack’d been asking me to put the amulet in earlier discarded on the grass between the circle and the trees, but from the flatness of the folds it was clearly empty.

Where could the amulet be? Lady Ann’s sleek suit didn’t show any bulges, and probably didn’t even have any pockets anyway. I was unfortunately all too familiar with women’s clothing and its pockets or lack thereof.

Did one of the guards have it? I closed my eyes and turned my head, trying to judge direction, opening my eyes when it felt like it was directly in front of me, only to find myself staring right at Lady Ann. I snuck a few dozen more feet in the trees around the circle of torches, only for the same thing to happen again. So where was she keeping it?

Lady Ann’s chanting slowed to a stop. She lowered the bowl and knelt to place it in the dirt directly in front of the kneeling Zoe. The guards forced Zoe to lean over, head down over the bowl. Lady Ann reached to her side and picked up the glinting silver object I’d noticed earlier, revealing it to be a large knife. With her other hand she grabbed Zoe’s hair. Zoe fought and bucked, but with Lady Ann holding her head steady and the two men restraining her arms, she couldn’t move.

Lady Ann yelled another line in the same language as the chanting, and before I realized what was happening, ran the knife along Zoe’s throat. Blood poured out of the gaping slash on her neck into the gold bowl. It was so much blood.

I was both horrified by and drawn to the gush of red liquid. I covered my mouth, but my fangs were already down and pressing into my lips. If I hadn’t drunk from Stacy and the guard earlier, I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from rushing forward. As it was, I struggled to not burst out of the brush and reveal myself.

Jack screamed wordlessly, fighting against the grips of the two men restraining him. Why didn’t he change and run?

Zoe twitched for what felt like too long. Finally she stopped moving and her eyes glazed over in death, although blood continued to drip from her throat for several long minutes. When it stopped, Lady Ann let go of her hair and the two guards dragged Zoe’s limp body back and dropped it on the dirt. She landed on her side, her dead eyes staring accusingly right at me still hidden in the trees. For a moment her face merged with Lindsay’s in my memory, even though aside from the dead eyes and the slashed throat, they looked nothing alike.

Lady Ann reached into the gold bowl, and when she pulled her hand back out, it was clean. Odd. That bowl had been catching all of Zoe’s blood; Lady Ann’s hand should have been coated in it. She stood and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, then pressed something against her chest, flattening it palm down.

“With this heart’s blood,” Lady Ann said in English, but in a ritualistic cadence and tone, “I invoke thee.”

She stood there for a long moment. The only sound came from the crackling of the flames in the tiki torches. She pulled her hand from her chest and looked down at her palm with a petulant frown. “That’s odd. I don’t feel any different.”

Her hand tilted, and I finally saw what she was holding: my amulet. The voice in my head crowed with delight, urging me to run and take what was mine. I shook with the effort of not moving. Even moving fast, I wouldn’t be able to take the amulet from her and protect Jack.

Jack sobbed. “Zoe. You killed her.”

Lady Ann’s head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at Jack. “Perhaps it needs a male…” she muttered low. Then she raised her voice and pointed at the men holding Jack. “Bring him over here and let’s try this again.”

“Jack!” Before I realized what I was doing I burst from the trees, running with my vampire speed. “No!” I yelled as I dashed for Jack. I had eyes only for him, so the crack of a gun caught me by surprise. The force of the bullet smashing into my left leg sent me crashing to the ground, and I screamed in surprise as much as in pain.

The momentum sent me tumbling and rolling across the dirt for several feet before I came to a stop, clutching my leg. It burned like silver.

“Everett!” Jack yelled, lunging forward only to be caught by the guards.

“You!” Lady Ann growled, glaring at me. “What did you do to my amulet? It worked for you, so why not me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I gasped, clawing at my pant leg. I ripped it open to reveal a bullet hole in my upper thigh. Black lines were quickly spreading out from the wound.

“Goddamnit, Everett!” Jack yelled, struggling against the guards. “You were supposed to stay away, where it was safe!”

“I wasn’t about to let her hurt you!” I snarled back around my fangs. It was getting easier to talk with them. “Why didn’t you change and run?”

Lady Ann smirked. “He can’t. I know all about your little werecoyote friend, Everett.”

“Jackal,” Jack and I said at the same time.

“Whatever.” She waved a hand dismissively as she paraded across the dirt towards me, walking like she was strutting down a catwalk and not across a muddy clearing. When she reached the torches, she fingered some purple flowers that had been twined around all the poles. I hadn’t paid them any mind, thinking they were just decorations for the ritual. “Wolfsbane.”

“So?” I struggled to pay attention to her words. The pain in my leg was growing worse and I couldn’t get my fangs to retract.

Lady Ann put a hand on her hip and pivoted to regard the dead body of Zoe, and then glanced at Jack. “Prevents shapeshifters from changing. At least that was how the legends went. Glad to see more than one legend got things right.”

She turned and stalked over to me. When she got to me, she placed a foot on my bullet wound and ground her heel into it. I screamed at the pain, and lunged for her leg with my teeth. A wooden baseball bat cracked me across the cheek, jerking my head to the side. Someone grabbed me from behind and stuffed whole cloves of garlic in my mouth, followed by a thick leather strap which they tied behind my head.

The smell and taste of the garlic made me retch and choke, but the gag kept me from spitting them out. I reached up to claw the gag loose, but the same guard snapped a metal handcuff around my wrist and then locked my hands behind me. Then rough hands grabbed my elbows and pulled me to my feet. My injured leg wouldn’t hold my weight, and I would have collapsed except for the man behind me holding me upright.

“Hmm, the garlic one seems to have some merit too.” She sniffed. “Pity. I love Italian food. Ah, well.”

A guard smashed a balloon into the top of my head. It exploded, spraying water everywhere. Water cascaded down my hair and dripped from my nose. I shook my head to get the worst of it off me.

“Holy water has no apparent affect,” Lady Ann said. “Interesting. Well, I’d love to experiment on you all night, but we’re on a tight deadline. Take him into the circle. He’ll be the next sacrifice to the ancient one.”

“No, you promised!” Jack pleaded as the guard shoved me forward. My shot leg wouldn’t hold my weight, and I collapsed. I tried to catch myself, but with my hands bound I landed on my face in the dirt. I rolled to the side before the thug lifted me back up by one arm.

“What?” Lady Ann said, crossing her hands under her bosom.

“Everett’s life for the amulet,” Jack said, straightening to look her in the eye. “Let him go. I’ll be your willing sacrifice. Perhaps that is what went wrong with your first ritual.”

“Hmm…” She shifted and tapped a finger on her chin. “You might be right at that. And I did promise. Agreed then.”

“No!” I tried to yell around the gag and the garlic without success.

Jack shot me a pleading look. “Uncuff him first. Let him go, to prove your good faith.”

As if I would just leave Jack here to die. I shook my head, glaring right back at Jack on the other side of the circle.

Lady Ann shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I can tell by the look on his face that he’d not be inclined to leave well enough alone. Be confident that if your death completes the ritual that I will have gotten what I wanted and will be happy to let him go.”

“And if it fails?” Jack glanced at Zoe’s cooling body. “Again?”

Lady Ann shrugged. “Then I suppose you’ll get to be together in the afterlife. Let’s be clear here, I hold all the cards. At least one of you will die tonight, no matter what you do.”

“How many people are you willing to throw into the meat grinder over whatever it is you are trying to accomplish?” Jack stood tall and regal despite the guards holding his arms. I would have swooned over him if I weren’t choking on garlic with my leg screaming in agony. “What are you trying to accomplish here, anyway?”

“As many as it takes,” Lady Ann snapped back and glanced at the watch on her wrist. “I’m dying. Aggressive brain cancer. Inoperable. All my money and power can do nothing for me. Chemotherapy didn’t work. There is no cure. At least, none known to medicine. When modern science failed me, I turned my gaze elsewhere.” She paused and her eyes grew distant.

She held my amulet out and turned it over in her hand, admiring it. “Took me over six months to track this down after I became aware of it from one of my new friends, who said this amulet might have the cure I was searching for. The last recorded mention of it was from a Victorian archaeologist’s notes. However, it was stolen somewhere between the dig site and England. Lost to the black market. Imagine my surprise when my private investigator discovered it in the background of a picture taken right here in Portland in the 1910’s. The old fool hadn’t even known what he had. Neither did the museum he donated it to, which is where you came in.” Her face turned hard and she turned her head to glare at me. “You almost ruined everything.”

“You just want to become a vampire?” Jack shook his head, eyes wide.

“You think that’s what he is?” She gestured at me while turning back to Jack. “No, he’s something more. I don’t want to spend my life hiding in shadows, like these weak, modern things that call themselves vampires. If I’m going to live forever, I want to do it in power and style, like the old ones. This amulet is the key to bringing them back, to make things like they were in the ancient times, where monsters ruled and it was the humans cowering in their houses at night.” She glanced at her watch again. “I’ve said too much, and the night won’t last forever. Decide now. Nobly sacrifice yourself for your boyfriend, or watch him die. Your choice.”

Jack glanced at me again, and his mouth flattened out into a line. “Sacrifice. I’ll be your sacrifice.”

I wanted to scream, “Who’s being selfish now!” but with the gag and garlic, all that came out was a muffled cry.

“Excellent.” Lady Ann gestured. “You there, as a show of good faith, take off his leg restraints. Let him walk in under his own power, to prove his commitment.”

One of the guards pulled a set of keys from his pocket and knelt down to unlock the cuffs on Jack’s legs, while Lady Ann walked back into the circle and dropped my amulet back into the bowl. Of course, that was why Zoe’s blood had disappeared; the amulet had sucked it into itself. The voice in my head was ranting about the amulet, but it was getting easier to ignore it now that I could distinguish it from my own thoughts.

“Kneel in front of me,” Lady Ann ordered, laying the knife back into place at her feet and picking up the bowl.

I jerked and twisted, horrified as Jack walked forward and dropped down onto the grass in front of her. Lady Ann lifted the bowl above her head and began repeating the same chanting ritual she’d done before killing Zoe. Jack glanced at me with a resigned look.

I saw red. The voice whispered to me how to break the handcuffs and kill the guard on me. I gave in. I had to save Jack.

Listening to the voice’s whispered instructions, I broke the handcuffs with a quick twist of my wrists. The guard holding me up by my arms barely had time to give a gasp of disbelief before I tensed my legs and jumped up, snapping my head back into his face. He staggered backwards with a pained grunt, blood spraying from his broken nose.

I ripped the gag off with both hands, easily snapping the thick leather, and spat out garlic bulbs as soon as it tore free. I swallowed a few in my haste, making me feel a little sick, but I swallowed hard and kept moving.

Kill him, the voice whispered. I listened. I turned and pounced on the falling guard, teeth wrapping around his throat before he even hit the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other suited men drawing guns. I didn’t have much time.

Rather than sucking, I bit down hard and jerked my head up, ripping the entire front of the man’s throat out. Arterial blood geysered up from the wound, coating me from head to toe.

Spitting the chunk of meat out, I took a few gulps from the spray before using vampire speed to run at the nearest guard. The man was still lifting his gun to sight on me when I reached him. I smacked the gun to the side with one hand while backhanding his face with the other to expose his throat. Teeth bared, I lunged. I ripped and tore more than sucked, only getting a few mouthfuls of blood before the man crumpled, like a puppet with its strings cut.

A gunshot barked suddenly in the silence. Pain blossomed up my arm, and the impact whirled me around. It hurt, but distantly. The voice pushed me on. I caught my balance and then sprinted at the gunner, who widened her eyes, finger tightening on the trigger again. I reached her and smacked the gun away right before it went off. The bullet swung wide, hitting a tree and sending chips of bark flying. I grabbed the woman’s head and tackled her to the ground, using my momentum to twist her head sharply to the side as we fell together. The crack of the woman’s neck snapping was almost as loud as the gunshots had been.

Lady Ann continued chanting, though her face was twisted in a snarl and her voice turned harsh. She sped up the tempo of her chant. I had to hurry, but the three guards on the other side of the tiki torch circle had drawn their guns and were sighting on me. I had to take care of them before going after Lady Ann, or their silver-coated bullets would kill me before I’d be able to finish her.

I grabbed the dead woman and lifted her body in front of me like a shield as I got up. Three more gunshots boomed, and her lifeless body jerked as they hit. I ran around the circle at regular human speed, limping harshly on my injured leg. I was tiring.

Although I’d fed well off Stacy and the first guard I’d run into, I’d been shot twice now with silver bullets and had been heavily using my vampire speed. I licked the blood off my lips as I ran, but I needed more. Another bullet struck the dead woman, but I was close enough to the shooters now that it went through and hit me in the chest. I gasped. Even slowed down by going through her dead flesh first, it still hurt.

I threw her body at the gunners as I limped forward. Their ducking away to avoid it bought me a few precious seconds.

I sped back up to vampire speed, despite my fatigue. The nearest man lifted his gun to aim at my head. I grabbed a torch as I sped towards him, propping it under my arm like a lance. The tip hit the man’s chest just as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, but not wide enough, and the side of my head erupted in pain as the bullet grazed the side of my head. I dropped my makeshift lance and the impaled guard fell screaming to the ground, chest ablaze from the still-burning torch sticking from his chest. The oil had splattered over his clothes and the fire spread rapidly.

I ignored him, not slowing down as I continued around the circle. The next guard’s eyes were wide, and his arms and hands shook with panic as he aimed at me. His gun cracked, and the dirt to my left erupted. I ducked down under his outstretched arms and punched him in the throat. The guard dropped his gun and fell, clutching at his neck and gasping for air.

Another woman and man stepped out of the treeline, raising guns at me. Shit. I didn’t have time for this.

The cadence of Lady Ann’s chanting changed, and I risked a glance back to see her lowering the bowl. I’d have hoped that Jack would take advantage of my distraction to run since his legs were now unbound, but he was still calmly kneeling in front of her, his head held high and defiance in his eyes.

No time to take care of the new gunners; I had to get there before she slit his throat. I spun and ran back toward them, ignoring the newcomers. There was the crack of gunfire and a bullet struck my lower back. I was thrown forward, barely catching myself from falling face-first onto the grass. My legs refused to move.

There was a second shot, and Kevin screamed. “Everett, go! Run! I’ll hold them off.” His warning was followed by the rapid cracks of gunfire. I glanced over my shoulder to see the woman who’d entered the clearing with him dead at his feet, and Kevin gunning down another black-suited guard coming out of the woods. I didn’t know why he was helping me, but I’d take all the help I could get.

The pain blossoming up from the gunshot wound in my back was enough to drown out the voice. For a moment I was back fully, my thoughts my own. So thirsty. It hurt. My fangs ached.

Two meals were directly in front of me, one kneeling down with his back to me. I let out a wordless cry, crawling toward my helpless prey’s exposed back. The woman caught sight of me over the other’s shoulder and smirked, lifting a knife toward my prey’s neck. The man tipped his head back to expose his throat.

I didn’t know why, but this sent a shudder of fury through me. With a last burst of strength, I lunged forward and shoved the man aside as the woman slashed sideways with the knife. The blade caught me across the face, cutting deeply. Blood sprayed from my cheek, splattering the bowl.

Magic exploded out from the amulet with an earsplitting crack. The wave of power threw us all flying away in opposite directions. All the torches were ripped out of the ground with the force of the blast, and the nearest trees snapped in half with loud cracks.

I landed half on top of the man I’d shoved out of the way. My prey. Warm blood pulsed under me. So close, separated from me only by a thin layer of skin. I inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating scent of the man’s blood. The man’s cheek had been struck by flying debris, and a thin trickle of blood welled from the cut. I crawled up the man to lick at the blood, shuddering with pleasure as each drop hit my tongue. The meal under me was frozen in fear, his heart hammering widely under my palms.

The voice in my head urged me to drink deeply, to revitalize myself, but I resisted. I opened my mouth and rested my fangs lightly on the man’s neck. The pulse of the blood jumping against my lips was almost too much to bear. I wanted it, badly, yet was not sure why I held back.

A woman moaned behind me. I snapped my head up and around to focus on what had made the sound. Another meal was there. I could feel her warmth from here, and this one I didn’t have any qualms about eating. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t move. I crawled toward her, growling low in my throat.

She opened her eyes as I reached her. She gasped and began crying, pushing herself back from me.

“No, no, don’t eat me!” she sobbed between shuddering tears. “I’ll give you anything you want. Money. Fame. Just spare me. Or, or,” Lady Ann pleaded, eyes glinting through her tears, “yes, turn me to be like you.”

Her words were meaningless. I grabbed her leg with my good hand, pulling her toward me. She screamed and twisted onto her belly to claw at the dirt, trying to get away, but she was only human. When she was close enough, I grabbed her hair and pulled her head to me, pushing her chin back to bury my mouth against her neck. I carefully pierced her artery with my fangs and sucked deeply, taking my time, making sure not to waste a single drop.

At first, she batted at my head with her fists, but after a few moments, she relaxed limply under me. I kept sucking until her heart stopped beating, and then lay there for a long moment, licking up the last few drops that welled out. When the blood stopped flowing, I pushed her away and looked around for the amulet.

It had been thrown by the blast, but I could feel it in my head when I concentrated, and it didn’t take me long to home in on it. I crawled toward it and snatched it up, petting it with reverence as I stared at it.

I don’t know how long I stared at it, but suddenly Stacy was there, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Everett?”

I blinked at her and hissed, clutching the amulet to my chest. “Mine!”

“Yes, yours,” Stacy said, giving me a motherly smile. “I won’t try to take it. Do you know where you are?”

I blinked, trying to order my thoughts. Now that I was holding the amulet again, the voice was silent and I could think. Slowly events slotted themselves in place in my mind. “Oh, god. I almost ate Jack.” My hands began to shake and I covered my mouth with my hands, pressing the amulet against my lips. It smelled of blood.

“But you didn’t.” Stacy gave me an encouraging smile. “He’s fine.”

I looked around finally, taking in what had changed. Stacy wasn’t the only vampire present. Ted was there, along with the rest from the house.

But Jack was gone, as was Zoe’s body.

“Jack?” I asked. “Where is he?” My voice raised in panic.

“He’s fine,” Stacy said reassuringly. “He’s getting medical attention back by the cars. He told us what happened. Now, do you feel coherent enough to come with me?”

I lowered my hands and hugged myself. I shook my head. “Hurts. Thirsty. Don’t want to…” I swallowed and shook my head harder. My whole body screamed in pain. My fangs and the back of my throat ached with thirst. “What happened? That blast?”

Stacy frowned. “We’re not sure. It seems our research on the amulet has suddenly become more urgent.” She gave me a hard look. “Would you like to be sedated?”

I gulped, and my grip on the amulet tightened. “Like what you did to me earlier? What if you take the amulet and I lose control again?”

“That’s a valid concern, Everett, but I assure you, until we figure out what it is, we won’t try to take the amulet from you again. That seemed to be the trigger, not the sedative.”

“You’re sure Jack’s okay?” I let out a breath and met Stacy’s eyes.

“I’m sure. Would you feel better if you talk to him on the phone?”

“No, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear from me. I almost…” I shook my head again, holding back tears. “No sedation. I’m in control, but I can’t walk.”

“Jack told us. They were using silver bullets.” Stacy’s concerned frown dropped away and her eyes narrowed. “We need to find that rogue vampire sooner rather than later. First turning a mortal without permission, and now telling another human how to hurt us.”

“I’m not sure anyone told her,” I said slowly, opening my hand to look at the amulet. “I think she was figuring it out as she went along. Like the garlic she stuffed in my mouth. It didn’t hurt. I choked, sure, but—”

“Wait, garlic?” Stacy blinked at me in surprise, smoothing her skirt under her legs to kneel next to me. “Garlic doesn’t hurt vampires. That’s a myth. Actually, if you have humans rub garlic oil on their skin before you bite them, it gives the blood a pleasant taste.”

“I think she was testing the myths. She said as much about the wolfsbane. She was experimenting.”

“Odd.” Stacy tapped a finger on her lips, her eyes growing distant.

“She said something else strange. She said the amulet worked for me, but not for her. Maybe there is no rogue vampire. Do you think,” I held the amulet up between thumb and finger to show it to Stacy, “that this is what changed me?”

Stacy shook her head. “That would be unprecedented. And impossible, as far as I know.”

I sighed and slipped it in my pocket. I almost mentioned the voice I’d been hearing to her, but hesitated. I probably sounded unhinged enough, and was on thin ice after everything I’d done so far: killing another vampire, drinking from Stacy, and wrecking their hearse. Plus this whole mess in the park.

Stacy patted my leg. “We’ll figure it out later. In the meantime, we need to get you back to the house and get some blood in you.”

“Where is Everett? Is he okay?” Kevin’s voice wafted over to me, and I whipped my head around to look. The officer was being restrained by two vampires, who were dragging him away.

Ted came over to Stacy. “Sorry, ma’am. He slipped away from the guards.”

“No, bring him over,” I said. “He helped me earlier, I want to know why.”

Ted frowned and looked at Stacy, who shrugged. “Why not?” she said.

The vampires holding Kevin let him go. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of me. He looked me over critically, and then surprising leaned over and hugged me. I blinked in surprise, then gritted my teeth and pushed him away, trying to keep myself from burying my fangs in the oh-so-tempting neck so close to my mouth.

“What is going on?” I asked, trying not to breathe too deeply of Kevin’s pleasant scent.

A smile tugged the corner of Stacy’s mouth. “Are those fang marks?” she asked as Kevin sat back, smiling amiably at me.

“Yeah, I might have bit him yesterday. Why?” I asked, still puzzled. “Jack said that vampire venom makes people drunk, like alcohol, but that doesn’t explain why he’s looking at me now like a lost puppy dog.”

“Vampire venom is also addictive. Hits some people harder than others.” Stacy patted the grinning Kevin’s leg. “Makes hunting easier when the prey wants to come back to you. Congratulations. You’ve got your first groupie.”

#original fiction #trans author #trans masc #urban fantasy #ftm #transgender fiction #vampire novel

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campbluelake · 2 years ago

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twice-struck || abbie || body react

( cw: discussion of unreality, panic attack, discussion of body horror re:fire )

Ranger Buddy’s announcement in the evening is concerning to say the least. A fire at camp? It sounds horrible. Who would do such a thing? Set the whole place ablaze–honestly, that could seriously hurt someone. Seriously hurt all of them, if it spread to where the cabins all were. She’s just glad that everyone seems to be okay as they all trickle in from where they’d been before they got the call to head over to the Staff Cabin. Well, that’s what she thinks, at least, as she takes a spot next to Kyousuke.

No matter how much time passes, someone doesn’t join them. Her eyes continue to stay trained on the cabin door like that will make him walk through the threshold, but he never does. There’s no easy smile or boundless energy that matches her own or…He’s just not there. Which means he’s out there. Leon’s out there somewhere. And she’s smart enough to be able to tell where. Why would Ranger Buddy have called them all here and not brought him when he disobeyed? Some part of her, some vague and foggy part, hopes that she’s wrong and overthinking because it’s bad if he’s not. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

But hoping hasn’t ever done Abigail much good in her life.

Each minute that ticks by, it feels like that fog clears up more and more, and the hand that had been resting over Kyousuke’s turns into a vice grip. Fire is bad. Bad. Very bad. Smoke inhalation is one of the most painful ways to die, don’t you know? And if that doesn’t get you, then the crackling, melting, boiling flames will. They’ll eat you alive until there’s nothing left but memories and mushy, wet ashes in a wreckage to mourn. There won’t need to be a closed casket service because closing the casket would just be closing an empty box.

Perhaps midway through the Buddy-imposed lockdown, the fog clears on what matters most.

[♫♫♫]

Burning.

A toy in the middle of the floor.

A cake falling to the ground, sparklers still lit up with the nine candles.

Red and orange eating Mom who lays down where she tripped.

Screaming into Dad’s shoulder as he hauls Abbie out of the house, feet being glued to the sidewalk as he tells her to stay here, and he runs back inside.

No one else comes outside.

Heat and smoke devours her house. Her family. Her world.

Out there somewhere, it’s eating Leon, too.

As the events of July 3, 1987 return to Abbie, she feels her heartbeat quicken, and her breath comes in short, jerking pants. The grip she has on Kyousuke shakes as her muscles lock up, and she struggles to think of anything but hot. It claws on her like an ill-fitting sweater or like a sticky film that she can’t get off. A cold sweat joins that invisible stickiness, and fluff replaces her mind. The world around her becomes incomprehensible as her vision becomes filled with images that only her imagination has conjured. She never saw her family as they became burnt husks, but she knows what it looks like, once the fire has finished.

That morbid curiosity of hers, after all, has gifted her rotting fruits to gorge herself on.

Without seeing, she knows what he could look like, and she begs and prays in the haze of her mind that it’s not true, that he was just left nearby and not inside. She can’t lose someone again, not like this. Not like this once more. Fire can’t take everything from her. It can’t be that cruel of an element.

“… Right… another piece of art. It’s all just… shapes.“

She holds her own out in front of her and begins to paint blocks on it, like you would when drawing one. “Just a collage of constructions that we apply meaning and value to.”

It feels like centuries ago, that conversation. It was before the last trial, when both of them didn’t have a concept of grieving because neither of them quite wanted to feel outside of what they wanted to feel in any particular moment. Why bother feeling bad when you could be happy instead? Why bother with the sad things in life when good things are better uses of your time?

But she’d learned that the bad came with the good, and the good didn’t feel good without the bad. Bad wasn’t something that could be avoided. You just had to breathe with it. Ignoring it or pretending it wasn’t real didn’t make it not real. It just made you, as the kids at school had always called her, delusional.

Vaguely, she can hear people talking to her, but she doesn’t know what they’re saying; her mind is far too focused on the unreality that she wants to shove herself into. She wants to go back in time and throttle that stupid, ignorant version of her who decided that the delusion was worth getting rid of because she wanted to feel happy–really happy–with the people she’d met here. The blissful weeks she had with everyone while feeling…they weren’t worth feeling this again.

Again.

Wasn’t once enough? Couldn’t once be enough?

“You can be sad with me, if you want. And I’ll hold you, as long as you want.”

Then, where was he?

Right, right, he was right where the last people who said they’d take care of her and love her were: in the crumbling, burnt wreckage of the world’s latest makeshift bonfire. Why? Was she cursed? Maybe. Maybe saying that sort of thing to her just meant that you, too, were signing up to become tinder. That’s the only thing she can come up with. The world wanted to remind her of the incendiary nature of life; fifteen years was a long time without a personal reminder.

“… I’d love to remember you.”

He’d said that to her, so openly and so honestly so soon after meeting, and she’d felt touched–honored–that someone as kind as him wanted to remember someone like her, even after she explained how much remembering hurt. She hadn’t said the same in return, just called him weird, because she couldn’t make that sort of proclamation to someone. Had he asked her recently, though, she would have said, yes, she would love to remember him, too.

It would have been said with an easy confidence because she was so certain she wouldn’t be “remembering” him at all; there was no need to preserve the memory of someone who was still with you, after all.

And yet, here she is, remembering.

Her breathing calms down to something resembling evenness, and she slowly shifts back into reality, looking around at her surroundings. Kyousuke and Malyce are both holding her, and Malyce’s scarf has been placed around her neck. Her face feels wet, and she knows she’s been crying just from that. No, scratch that, she is crying, and she can’t make it stop.

Abigail wonders if there will ever be a time when she’s not the one remembering. Will there be a time when she’s not the one left mourning and carrying the memory of someone she loves with her like Atlas carries the world? Perhaps one day, the load will finally crush her underneath it. It won’t be today, obviously, as she’s still stuck sitting in the staff cabin, desperately trying to keep herself here, but, as her chest aches because of her abused lungs and the clamping of her heart, she wonders if it will be before another name gets added to the list of those July took from her.

5:30 AM rolls around, and her crying finally tapers off. She’d forgotten this part of mourning, this part of loss. When you’re finally out of tears and they’ve taken everything out of you, and you’re left like a marionette without strings. Limp. Listless. Empty. Unable to muster the energy to keep herself upright anymore, Abbie slumps to the ground, exhausted but burdened with the knowledge that the backs of her eyelids will have horrors she doesn’t want to see painted on the back of them.

The group leaves with Kyousuke promising to be back as soon as he can, and she’s by herself.

Leonidas Nassar is dead, and Abigail is nine years old all over again, left on the sidewalk alone, and she’s stuck with the same thought she had the first moment she was awake on July 4.

Why is life so mean?

#ch4 #react #abigail

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pastafossa · 2 years ago

Text

“It’s... Really Yellow?” (Matt Murdock x f!Reader, Fanfic)

Ok so in honor of ALLLLLL the good Charlie news today and us getting a little more of him in the red and yellow suit in the trailers, I’ve decided to finally pull this little drabble out of my folders and finish it since I’ve gotten some requests about what The Red Thread!Reader’s reaction would be to Matt’s new suit. You do NOT have to have read TRT to get this, it’s just a nice bonus (and for those who DO read it, just know this is set *waves* in their future).

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Mildly NSFW at best. There’s some suggestive stuff, lots of innuendo, but no sex or anything.

Summary: Foggy needs you to help him convince Matt that red and reflective yellow are ridiculous colors to wear as a stealthy Devil. Unfortunately for Foggy, Matt knows exactly how to convince you otherwise.

Wordcount: 2,942

Warnings: innuendo, language, Matt turning the Devil voice on you, bad use of puns, Matt’s ability to look good in literally anything

“Look at me,” Foggy said fiercely, pointing at your eyes and then his. “You can’t forget what we talked about when he shows up. Ok?”

You scoffed where you’d leaned up against the humming a.c. unit, relaxing on the rooftop as you both waited. At least it was the rooftop of your and Matt’s building. There were far less things to worry about up here. “Of course I’m not going to forget. That’s ridiculous.”

“Good. Because it’s—I don’t know how you missed it last night—”

“I told you. I was asleep when he came in, and he had to leave early this morning for that case.” You rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “I knew he was going to pick up the new suit last night, and I tried to stay up but passed out on the couch. Woke up in bed when he kissed me bye before work. I figured he could just show me tonight when he was done with his patrol.”

“Yeah, see, that’s my point,” he said quickly, absently shaking out one foot. He was probably trying to keep himself awake. It wasn’t often you both tried to stay up for the moment Matt came back from his circuit around the Kitchen. There had to be at least one person who kept normal human hours. “It should have woken you up. You wanna know why? Because it’s—”

“It’s yellow, I know. You’ve said.”

“Yellow!” Foggy thundered, flinging his hands up towards the sky in an apparent show of outrage. “Yellow and red, ketchup and mustard! How is this stealthy unless you’re disguised as a hot dog? He’s-he’s reflective! This is anti-stealth, and he already gets into too much shit when he is stealthy! He should have woken you up like a yellow disco ball or a mustard torch!”

“What even is a mustard torch?” you mused.

“A mustard torch is what he is now,” Foggy groaned, reaching up to scrub at his face. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. ‘Why not black?’ I asked. Do you know what he said? He just blinked at me like he was shocked and said, ‘but I’ve already done black twice, Foggy.’ That’s what he said!”

“I mean… he has, though, so...”

“Listen to me.” Foggy tapped his temple, trying to psych you up. “No getting distracted. He’ll try it. He’ll use every trick he has on you. You’ve seen him in court. And you are our only tiebreaker. Karen’s staying out of it, Jess just mocks every suit he wears, and Spider-kid is too innocent to bring into this. You need to hold the line. You’re the only one who can talk some sense into him about the hot dog colors. I need reconfirmation you’re with me on this. We need to be a united front.”

And granted, you hadn’t actually seen the suit yet since Matt had only gotten it last night and despite your best efforts, you’d unfortunately fallen asleep before he’d gotten back. But from what Foggy had said, it did sound… a little silly. It was red and yellow—and not just yellow, but apparently a reflective, gleaming yellow. Matt wasn’t exactly the best judge of color, obviously, but surely even he’d realize that painting himself like a reflective road marker would make the whole sneaky devil thing a whole lot more difficult. This was smug. It was cocky. It was…

Alright, so maybe it was just like him, but still. That was what you were here for. You’d be able to tell him he’d gone a little over the line again.

“Trust me,” you told Foggy firmly, nodding your head. You even widened your stance and crossed your arms, determined to stand strong. “I’m on your side.”

“Thank you! We can teamwork this, ok? So he comes, you see it, you point out the obvious, we get him a can of spray paint or something. Literally, any other color as long as it’s dark. I’d take fucking dark blue at this point, I’d take grey, anything but that ridiculous—”

The sudden burst of warmth inside your chest was the only warning you had before you felt the rush of a breeze overhead.

Years ago you might have ducked, but you’d gotten used to it by now, and instead, you barely blinked as Matt’s acrobatic leap carried him over you. The second he'd passed you, he twisted in the air, the movement transitioning into a smooth roll as he hit the ground. The rise to his feet was just as smooth, just as clean, the finish progressing in one fluid motion as he spun to face you before standing still to await your judgement.

“Theatrics!” Foggy barked, poking Matt’s arm. “That’s cheating, and you know it.”

“She needs to get the full effect,” Matt said defensively as Foggy poked him again, and…

Oh, you thought, your eyes sweeping down.

It had been a while since you’d seen him in anything like his first Devil suit, but you remembered fondly the way all that tough leather and strange fabric had drawn your attention to his broad shoulders, the powerful thickness of his thighs, and the endless breadth of his chest. This new suit looked much like the last in shape and in form despite a few obvious and less obvious changes—and if anyone besides Matt would know, it’d be you, since you’d stripped him out of that old suit often enough. And goddamn if you weren’t being reminded once again that Matt Murdock was always a five-course meal no matter what he chose to wear.

Your five-course meal.

“You are literally the color of a highlighter, that’s the only effect she… hey. Hey! Look at me!”

You darted your eyes guiltily back over to Foggy, breathing a little more quickly. “Yup, looking at you. I am focused.”

“The yellow!” he said quickly, jabbing urgently at Matt’s mask. “Remember what we talked about. Ok? Stay strong.”

Matt hummed. “Have you been tampering with the witness, Foggy?”

“It’s called preparing the witness. I’m not about to let you pull your Devil mind tricks on her.”

Right.

The yellow.

You could look at him and think about just the yellow.

Matt fixed his attention once more on you when he sensed your gaze return. And ok, so the mask was different. The dark, opaque eye lenses of the mask seemed an almost liquid-black in the low light, endless pools of shadow that saw right through you, saw into you beneath skin and bone, fathomless eyes made all the more startling when set within the gleaming, burnished gold of the full helmet. Because it was gold, not yellow, but gold: rich, rough as if weather-beaten, and luxuriously, dangerously warm, and yes, maybe also abso-fucking-lutely reflective, it was true. It would draw attention, maybe too much. But it… it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, was it? Somehow, it still managed to look dangerous, like something belonging to a wild, untamed thing that you just wanted so foolishly to touch—

No, no, you needed to focus.

Matt parted his lips the slightest bit, drawing the air in across his tongue on a slow inhale. He swallowed, once, as if savoring the taste. And then…

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Stop it with the sniffing and tasting thing,” Foggy snapped. “Seriously, she’s not gonna fall for that.”

Matt let his head gradually tilt, his chin tucking down. You knew that look. It was the look of a predator, the motion confident and dripping with intent, with knowledge of what was around him. It was how he hunted, how he hunted you, and your heart skipped a beat on instinct, a reaction far beyond your control. He opened his mouth bit by bit, drawing your attention to his full lips, to the curl of his tongue as he shaped the word.

“Don’t you dare, Murdock!” Foggy bellowed.

“Sweetheart,” Matt purred, his smooth voice nothing but warm smoke and a low, throaty hunger.

“Shit,” you groaned as your knees went weak, your body flooding with heat. It was that voice, damn him: that rasping Devil voice you always swore you could feel drag along your skin like a physical thing, like torn strands of silk, like the burning brush of his mouth and the heat of a flame. When combined with that familiar silhouette and the smooth motions of his body, there was little hope of resisting. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“The color!” Foggy shouted, throwing his hand in front of Matt’s face as if it would break the spell Matt had cast on you just now, cast on you months ago, years ago. “It’s fucking yellow! Focus, woman!”

“I, um… it is… yellow.” You swallowed hard as Matt dragged his tongue across his lips, trailing his fingers smoothly along the billy clubs at his hip. In fact, the rhythm his fingertips took up looked more than familiar enough to have certain parts of your body clenching. “It’s… it is… yellow, and that might be… attention-grabbing. Which is… not a good thing.”

“I think she needs to see the back,” Matt said abruptly.

“Don’t even think about it!” Foggy thundered. “I’ll throw you off this goddamn roof, I don't give a shit about your training!”

“Sweetheart,” Matt crooned. “Would you like to see the back?”

“She would not!”

Fuck.

“...Yes,” you whispered because the only thing as good as Matt’s front was his back, and you’d never seen his ass look like anything less than a five-star masterpiece that belonged in art museums across the world. “Yes, Jesus, let me see.”

“No-ooo,” Foggy moaned, dropping his face into his hands in defeat as Matt pointedly began his gradual spin, showing off his outline with a smug grin. “Jesus, woman. You’re selling your soul for an ass?”

“But it’s his ass,” you mumbled because it was. Matt had the best goddamn ass you’d seen in your life, and that glorious roundness was now cradled deliciously in tight red leather. And maybe Foggy was right. The yellow pattern along the side of Matt’s thighs was a little obvious, but it also brought out just how much muscle was packed on those thighs of his.

You needed him to get over here.

“Does no one see how obvious the yellow is? Am I the only person—”

“D, come here and let me touch your ass,” you whispered.

“I’m absolutely shocked at how scandalous this trial has become.” Matt shook his head as he finished his spin, doing his best to sound at least mildly dismayed, his mouth the mouth of a poor chaste soul who had definitely not fucked you on a church rooftop last month. “And how would your husband feel about that? I see that ring.”

“You two are literally the worst. You cannot be flirting over the ketchup-and-mustard suit. You cannot.”

“Can and am. As for how my husband would feel, he’s given me a free pass for the Devil since Daredevil saves the city on a regular basis,” you said breathlessly as you fixated on the breadth of Matt’s chest. Yeah, you could get used to the yellow. It was a lot but he’d find a way to make it work. “He’s known about my crush on the Devil for ages. So come over here and let me grope the evidence before I rule in your favor.”

Matt let out a playful growl and ran at you, catching you around the waist and throwing you up over his shoulder with ease as you shrieked before bursting into laughter. Matt quickly spun, slapping you once on the ass and making you squirm as he grinned at Foggy and you pointedly began to run your hands curiously over the suit. “Sorry, counselor,” Matt sighed. “Sounds like the verdict’s been rendered in my favor. Better luck next time.”

“You only won because you cheated!” Foggy groaned as Matt sauntered backwards towards the rooftop door. Hopefully Foggy thought that stumble was because Matt had misstepped, and not because you had, in fact, begun to grope hungrily at Matt’s ass. He couldn’t blame you. It was right there. “This was not a fair trial, and I object!”

“Objection denied. No cheating needed,” Matt snorted. “You should have known better than to put my wife on the stand.”

“I’m a weak woman when it comes to my husband’s ass and chest, especially when paired with the Devil head tilt,” you agreed. “I have not hidden this. I acknowledge my flaws.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were this weak,” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms.

Matt spun, slapping your ass again as you shrugged at Foggy, somewhat difficult considering you were still lazily draped over Matt’s shoulder, but you did your best. It wasn’t like you minded, after all. You had a great view of Matt’s ass from here. “Sorry, Foggy. I’ll make it up to you, but I gotta side with D on this one. I rule in favor of these ass-ets.”

“Oh,” Matt sighed, as Foggy made a retching sound. “Now I’ll really have to punish you, because that was a crime.”

“How many more years will I get if I slap your ass right now as an additional crime?”

“A lifetime sentence, Mrs. Murdock. I’d advise you to think very carefully before acting.”

You pretended to think about it for all of about point-five seconds. “Done.”

Smack!

His chest rumbled against your legs as a heated shudder rolled up his body beneath you, a motion easy to track with you draped over his shoulder, with your gaze fixed firmly on the line of him. And you’d gotten him good. The texture was a little different than the last Devil suit, but you still got a nice, loud sound of it, even if nothing would compare to bare, unobstructed skin.

He tilted his head very, very carefully, his lips brushing against your side. “You’re going to pay for that one when I get you inside, sweetheart,” he murmured, so quietly you knew it was just for you.

You were counting on it.

Foggy rolled his eyes as Matt wrenched open the rooftop door, and you threw Foggy a salute. “Despite my utter betrayal, I want you to know I love you, can’t wait to see that movie tomorrow. Use the other door on your way out, we’ll be locking this one.”

“Mustard-lover!” he threw at you, as you dropped your head to blatantly watch Matt’s ass again, the door shutting behind you both.

The second you were inside, Matt set you down carefully. Then he turned and stepped into you, herding you back with the broad line of his body. You gave in happily, ceding ground as he prowled forward until your back hit the wall, a shiver of anticipation running through you.

This never got old.

Your breath caught when he dipped his head, tilting it as he listened to the sound of your body, his tongue darting against his lips as he tasted you on the air, and you swallowed down an eager moan. He swayed in closer then, tempting you, inching closer until his mouth hovered over yours. Only then did his arms rise so he could brace his hands on either side of you, caging you in. Just like that, you were trapped, the Devil looming over you in heated shades of red and gold, rich lust and glorious indulgence. “Mm, now, sweetheart, I have one very important question before we start.”

Fuck, there was that voice again, nice and low. You couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him again, sliding your hands boldly up from his waist to fan out across his chest. “Uh huh?”

“Suit on,” he purred, his lips feathering against yours with each sinful world, “or suit off?”

“Suit definitely on,” you hummed, sliding your arms around him to drag your nails down the line of his back. “Someone’s gotta break it in, right?”

He threw you a feral grin, then, the low huff of his laugh rolling rich across your skin. “Did I ever tell you I love you?”

“Every day, D. Every beautiful day.”

-x-

“Ok, but is it… how yellow is it, really?”

“I mean, you’re not mustard-colored like Foggy says. More gold. But let’s just say if you polish that helmet too much, you might cause a car accident. That shit is really reflective now that I think about it.”

“Hm. I may have to change that in the future.”

1K notes · View notes

dyns33 · 3 years ago

Text

The Murdock Boy

Story about a Dark Matt Murdock, future Kingpin, in College. But this time, everyone love him and think he’s nice.

Everyone except Y/N.

(a reversed version of The Devil and the Angel)

There was something really weird about the Murdock boy.

Off. Wrong.

Y/N couldn't say what though. And since she seemed to be the only one seeing it, she didn't know if it was her who had a problem.

After all, on paper, Matthew Murdock seemed perfect.

The teachers adored him. He was one of the best students, if not the best, smart, calm, always on time. His grades were excellent and despite his handicap, he did not ask for any special treatment.

Sometimes he smiled proudly when giving an answer no one else had, but that was okay, like everyone else he had the right to brag a bit.

The girls were all at his feet, even if he wasn't even doing anything for that. After all, Matt was handsome. You had to be blind to... Well, he was very handsome, no one could say otherwise. Tall, thin, muscular. With a smile... We could have been damned for that smile. His eyes must have been fine too, but he was always wearing his glasses, so it was hard to tell.

The guys liked Murdock too. They found him funny and nice. They wanted to be like him. Franklin 'Foggy' Nelson, his roommate, said he had never met someone like Matt. He considered him his best friend.

Well, he admitted that Matt was special sometimes. Silent, secret. Probably shy. If he wasn't in the bedroom studying, then he must be in the library, studying, and if not… Foggy didn't know. But certainly somewhere else, studying.

His tragic story also made you want to be there for Matt, to help and hug him. He never talked about it, but everyone had heard about the truck, what had happened to his mother, how he lost his sight, and then that his father was murdered.

No one knew, however, what had happened to him between the death of Jack Murdock and his arrival at the College. Matt seemed to have totally disappeared for almost ten years. Some said he had to go to an orphanage, or to a distant family, or that he had been adopted. But he had come back, because New York was his city.

Yeah.

Y/N didn't believe it at all. But still without being able to explain why. It was just a feeling. She knew Matt wasn't nice. There was something in his smile, in his voice, in his whole being, that made her nervous and therefore she didn't trust him.

The others didn't understand.

"...Is it because he's blind ?"

"Marci ! No, not at all ! Who do you think I am ? That's something else, he... He seems fake. I couldn't explain it to you."

"Foggy says he's shy."

"I don't think he's shy. I really can't tell you why, but I don't like him."

"Sometimes we say we don't like someone, because we like them a little too much."

"Karen ! Please don't tell him what I just told you. I don't want any trouble, or him thinking I'm mean if I'm wrong."

"You are mean."

"Maybe. But I don't think I'm wrong."

Y/N was even certain of it, more and more certain. Because Matt obviously knew what she thought of him, and he found it amusing, tormenting her, without anyone realizing it.

It started when he nearly knocked her over by stomping her foot with his cane.

She screamed, before getting angry, asking him to watch where he was going.

In her defence, she hadn't seen it was Matt when she said that, and she felt a bit silly, even more so when Foggy came to defend his friend, apologizing for him and saying he didn't do it on purpose.

But Matt's smile... That smirk. His little 'oops, sorry' wasn't sincere at all. He had done it on purpose !

And he did it again, very often.

He bumped into her 'by accident', he spilled water on her, he followed her, and when she asked him what he wanted, he pretended to be surprised, because he had 'no idea' that she was there.

Of course, it was possible these were all accidents, because after all Matt Murdock was blind, there had been articles about what happened, the doctors had checked, but… His fucking smile. His voice, full of mischief and mockery, when he spoke to her.

Y/N wasn't crazy, he always knew where she was and he was playing with her. He found it very amusing.

What an asshole.

And Y/N couldn't say anything, because no one was going to believe her ! Matthew Murdock was a good boy, blind, good student, charming, who had no reason to attack her.

He wasn't even supposed to know what she thought of him. Marci and Karen hadn't told him, they hadn't told anyone. It seemed impossible for him to know.

At night, Y/N began to see him at her window. Then in her room. She was having more and more trouble sleeping.

Matt didn't touch her. He didn't hurt her, it was even quite rare that he spoke to her, but his mere presence, just knowing that he was there, that he was looking at her without being able to see her, that frightened her.

Yes, Y/N was afraid of Murdock.

At the same time, he also happened to do some... nice things ?

When she had a nightmare or was sick, she felt his hand resting on her forehead, caressing her gently, and she heard his voice murmuring reassuring words.

Without her ever asking him for anything, he sometimes came to sit next to her in the library, whenever she had problems understanding a lesson or completing an assignment, and he helped her.

During those moments, he seemed different. Less polite, but not rude. Cold. Stoic. Hard. Certainly his true face.

Surprisingly, Y/N was less afraid of him when he was like this. She spoke to him more freely, almost as if he were normal and if they were friends, allowing herself to criticize and tease him.

During those moments, Matt would smile, a slightly cruel smile, and then he would come to disturb her sleep the next evening. His black glasses, with a few tints of red, were visible in the darkness.

Then the party happened.

Y/N had drunk a little too much. She even wondered if there was something other than alcohol in her glass. On her way back to her room, she was accosted by some guys who were definitely not friendly, but she was too weak and dazed to push them away.

For a second, she closed her eyes, her head spinning.

By reopening them, she made another man had arrived and they were fighting. She closed her eyes again, holding onto the wall.

A hand touched on her face. She knew this hand.

"...Matt ?"

If it was really him, he said nothing.

She woke up in her bed, wearing her pajamas, a glass of water on her nightstand.

Was it a dream ? Y/N wondered for a long time if it had been a dream, since Matt pretended not to understand what she was talking about when she thanked him shyly. After all, a blind man couldn't fight like that, against three guys.

But it wasn't just a blind man, it was Murdock.

The newspapers spoke of three bodies found in an alley, not far from the college, of criminals who had certainly been killed by a rival gang.

But Y/N knew.

She was more careful around Murdock after that, and at the same time if he had saved her, it must have meant that he didn't want to hurt her.

Not physically. Not right away anyway. Maybe he was like a big cat, waiting for the right moment, having fun and not wanting to share his prey with anyone.

Perhaps that was also why he was scaring away the few potential partners who were interested in Y/N. When he wasn't stealing them.

"I thought Wade liked you." Foggy noted, observing his roommate who was drinking a beer, sitting on Wade's lap.

"Me too. But I guess I can't compete with Murdock's ass."

"It's true that his ass is... Anyway. And Sasha ? I thought things were going well with Sasha ?"

"One day I lost them in the library. When I found them, they seemed completely panicked, ran away and I never heard from them ever again. Matt came to join me right after that. I'm not saying there's a connection. I'm just noting the strange coincidence that every time someone approaches me, he's not far away, and I'm still single."

"Perhaps he wishes you weren't single with him ?" Karen sneered. "Like you not liking him, maybe because you like him, remember ?"

"Please, it's not that."

Well, maybe Y/N didn't hate Matt as much as she wanted to, or as much as she should. She was still a little scared of him and she was on her guard, but she had to admit that he had some quality, despite the fact that he was obviously a psychopathic killer.

The problem was really that she didn't understand what he wanted.

If it was a simple game, it was exhausting and cruel. Could he be so cruel ? Certainly.

It would have been stupid to ask him directly. Maybe Y/N was stupid, because that's what she decided to do. To not waste any time and not act like a coward.

"What I want ?" Murdock repeated in disbelief. He really didn't seem to expect her to ask him that question.

"Yes. Why are you doing all this ? And don't deny it, I know it's you, and you're doing it on purpose. One day you're awful, the next day you're kind of nice, then you scare my dates away. Why are you like that with me ?"

"Hmm. I don't know. You don't treat me like I'm glass."

"What ? Why would I do that ?"

"Everyone sees me, hears my story, and immediately thinks that I am a poor little blind, unhappy and fragile child, incapable of doing any harm, who must be protected and pampered."

"Pfft." Y/N cursed, rolling her eyes. "It's wrong, and besides you take advantage of it sometimes, don't make me think you hate it."

"I hate it. But I recognize that it can be practical."

"You didn't answer my question. Even though I treat you normally and see that you are dangerous, why ? You could just ignore me."

Murdock made a funny face, as if he had never thought of that and the idea seemed very stupid.

Then, without warning, he jumped up, grabbing her arms and kissing her.

Rather, he violently put his mouth on hers, sucking and biting her lips. As Y/N froze in shock, Matt seemed to realize what he was doing, he stopped, groaned oddly and left forgetting his books and cane.

Alright, Y/N had her answer.

Obviously, Murdock didn't quite know what he wanted with her either. She was not sure if it was a good thing or not.

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #Matt Murderdock #dark Matt #college matt murdock

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

Seized

An addition to Approval. Do not read this until reading that first.

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom

Summary: What happens when Talia Al Ghul learns that someone has stolen the affections of her past lover and her son?

Word Count: 3,000 [One Shot]

“Delinquents have been detained. I can hear the sirens,” Damian stated calmly in his comms.

“Good work, Robin. You know where to meet me. You have a minute,” Bruce responded as he whipped the bat mobile through Crime Alley to grab his son.

Just as Damian opened the door and hopped in, an alarm went off within the vehicle.

“The Manor,” Damian thought aloud as he read the screens with his father.

Bruce ignored his comment and was calling Alfred immediately.

“Master Wayne,” the butler instantly picked up. “I followed protocol, but they were already gone when I arrived.”

“Y/N…” Bruce immediately asked.

“They took her,” Alfred told him, distress clear in his tone.

Damian’s head whipped to his father to watch his reaction.

But Bruce’s jaw only tightened and he sped the batmobile even faster.

Returning faster to Wayne Manor than ever before, Bruce jumped out of the batmobile and up the secret entrance to get to the main house.

Damian was hot on his heels. He’d already sent an encrypted message to his brothers, informing them of the situation. It was only a matter of time before they were at the manor as well. Though Damian suspected Jason would not come, instead already starting to scour the streets of Gotham for Y/N and her captors.

Alfred was already waiting for them. “Master Wayne, I am so sorry.”

Bruce ignored him and walked to the master bedroom. Y/N would’ve been sleeping when the attack occurred. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been awake, she had no training in self defense. She was merely an innocent civilian.

“Father,” Damian muttered quietly.

Bruce turned around to find his son ripping a shuriken out of the door frame.

They shared a look, both recognizing the particular shape and color.

“The League…” Damian muttered quietly, saying what they both were thinking.

——————

Y/N was barely awake.

They clearly had drugged her with something to make her more compliant. Everything was foggy and muffled.

Yet they still tied her hands and ankles together, as if her brain could even manage to get her body to move.

But Y/N could feel the effects of the drugs losing their strength, yet keeping their hold on her.

She squinted as she looked around. The air felt different. It was colder and dryer, making Y/N believe that she was no longer in Gotham. Little did she know, she wasn’t even in the country any longer.

“I do not know what he sees in you,” a woman hummed from somewhere in the room.

Y/N blinked as he listened, but her eyes could not adjust to the low lighting and she didn’t even have the strength to turn her head.

“You are weak. Ripped from your own bed without so much as a fight.”

Then she heard the grunts and clashing of metal.

The woman smiled. “Right as expected, my son.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed at ‘my son.’ Then she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings. There were swords and other weapons stored everywhere, and there was armor hung from the walls.

“Talia?” She whispered.

The woman chuckled. “Weak, but not utterly foolish.”

Then the door of the room was thrown open.

Y/N looked to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

“My son, finally returned," Talia greeted with a smirk.

“Mother.” Then his gaze flickered to Y/N. Very subtly, he was scanning her body to access any possible injuries.

His gaze turned back to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You have forgotten where you come from, Damian. You are not just the heir to the Wayne family. Before anything else, you are my son and the heir to Ra's al Ghul’s throne.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Damian said with a gesture to Y/N.

“She has everything to do with this,” Talia snapped. “She has made you weak.”

Damian said nothing.

“She has taken you both from me,” Talia growled.

“Father does not love you,” he growled.

“A small lapse in judgment on his part, but not something that cannot be remedied. Our love gave us you, and I fully believe he will return to me.”

“His heart belongs to someone else. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can give up your fantasy.” Then he hesitated to say the next part. “I never plan on returning to The League of Shadows. I wish to stay with father.”

Talia’s amusement vanished at her sons words.

The next second, she unsheathed her sword. “Perhaps I should just kill her and remind you of your place, my son.”

With that, Damian rushed forward and intercepted Talia’s attack with his own sword.

“Do not touch her,” Damian growled.

Their swords continued to clash as the mother and son fought each other. The fight raged on for what felt like forever. Too evenly matched, but also both too terrible at hiding that neither actually wanted to kill the other.

In the distance, Y/N could hear even more fighting. She could only assume it was Bruce fighting his way to her and his son.

Talia and Damian’s swords locked again, both of their stances shaking from the hold.

“Do you really think you and your father stand a chance against the entire League? Why do you think we lured you all the way here? You are outnumbered.” Talia hissed.

“You think us foolish enough to come alone?” Damian smirked right before there was a boom that shook the entire compound.

Talia’s focus slipped half a second, allowing Damian a window to go on the offense.

He flipped his mother’s sword out of her grip and held his own to her throat.

“Yield,” he growled down to her.

“You truly choose her over your own mother?” The hurt in her eyes was clear.

“You abandoned me, used me as a tool to disrupt father’s life. She taught me that there is more to life than killing and destroying. She loves me and care for me, even when I gave her no reason to do so.”

“And it will be the death of you,” Talia warned.

He glared at her. “Yield!”

But he knew she would never. So he whipped out a dart and blew it to her neck – a sedative. It knocked her out within seconds.

Waiting until he was sure it had worked, Damian sheathed his sword once again and ran to Y/N’s side.

With a knife, he cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles.

“D-Damian,” her voice was still slurred from the drugs and she was weak. How long had she been here without food or water? “I don’t think I can walk."

Damian helped her to her feet. “Y/N, please try,” he begged as he wrapped her around around his shoulders. He was still just a boy, one that was shorter than her. But he wouldn’t give up that easily.

There was another explosion.

“What’s-What’s happening?” Y/N asked as she dragged her feet and held on tightly.

“That would be Todd, most likely taking his job of distracting to an unnecessary level.”

“You all came?” She asked in shock.

“Of course,” Damian scoffed.

Suddenly an object came flying at them and Y/N cried out in pain.

“No!” Damian bellowed as he looked up to see that another League member was attempting to stop their escape. And with it, they had thrown a shuriken that had landed in Y/N’s side.

She dropped to the ground.

Damian screamed as he unsheathed his sword once again and charged the assassin. It wouldn’t take him long. He knew that every minute spent fighting was a minute Y/N was bleeding out and edging closer to death.

He didn’t hold back like he had with his mother and quickly disarmed the enemy. Then thrusting his sword into a nonfatal area of his body, enough to neutralize him.

Damian rushed back to Y/N’s side, where a pool of blood was forming from her wound.

He knew it was useless, but he still tried to lift Y/N into his arms to carry her. He cried out in both panic and frustration.

The building had now caught aflame due to Jason’s explosions. Damian would need to call for backup, hoping one of his older brothers could help.

Then a shadow was cast over him.

Damian tensed, believing it to be another attack.

But he looked up to find his father standing before them.

However, Bruce’s gaze was on his unconscious girlfriend.

With the arrival of his father, Damian’s cold and calculating disposition melted.

“She’s hurt,” his voice trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Help her.”

Damian rarely cried. He cried less than grown men. He was raised that way. It didn’t help that his father was not a great example of healthy emotional expression.

But Bruce knew what his sons tears were for: Damian was frustrated, he felt weak, and he thought he had failed his mission. But most of all, Bruce knew his son was crying for fear of Y/N’s death. Because the boy had grown to love her.

As if there were a world when Bruce wouldn’t give his own life to save Y/N.

Bruce bent down and carefully brought Y/N into his arms.

Damian heard her mutter his father’s name, though still delirious from both the drugs he’s sure his mother pumped into her and the blood loss.

“Red Robin, get the jet to my coordinates immediately,” Bruce instructed through his comms.

Damian wondered how his father could be so calm when the woman he loved was bleeding out in his arms. This wasn’t bat business, this was personal. But Bruce spoke like it was just another night of patrol.

A few minuets later, Damian and Bruce had fought their way through the flames and burning compound.

Tim lowered the platform of the jet.

Damian made sure his father and Y/N got on before he followed. He turned and gave one last look at the burning compound that would no longer exist come morning. He did not fear for his mother’s life. He knew someone from the League would come for her – if she didn’t save herself first.

When he boarded the jet, his father already had Y/N on the surgical table that elevated from the jet floor.

Bruce had taken off his cowl, allowing Damian and his brothers to study his expressions.

Damian had been wrong about his father handling the situation like any other mission. For now he could see the terror and worry in his father’s eyes, despite him trying to control his emotions.

Damian looked to Jason, who still had his Red Hood helmet on.

“My grandfather?” He asked his brother.

“Escaped,” Jason muttered.

Damian stepped forward to help Bruce with Y/N’s injuries.

“She’ll be OK,” he muttered to his father.

All of them had high-level medical training to know.

Thankfully the assassin’s aim was not great and didn’t land in lethal place on Y/N’s body. But she still lost a lot of blood and would need many stitches.

All the brother’s shared a look when Bruce ignored the statement.

———

Y/N woke up to someone gripping her hand. She recognized from the smell and the feel of the bedding that she was in Bruce’s bed at the manor.

She winced as she opened her eyes to find Bruce was the one holding her hand as he sat in a chair only inches away from the side of the bed.

“Hi,” she whispered to him with a sad smile.

“Hi,” he said back with a smirk.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

Then Y/N looked past Bruce to realize there was someone else in the room.

Damian passed out on the velvet chaise that was pushed against the windows.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Bruce told her. “Dick had to convince him just to take a shower for 5 minutes when we first got back.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the revelation.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice as he said it made Y/N’s gaze snap back to him. Had it shook? Or was she imagining it?

Y/N squeezed his hand that was still wrapped around hers.

“I know,” she told him with a sympathetic look.

He hid it well, but Y/N knew Bruce. And she knew that her being kidnapped from his own home probably drove him mad with guilt. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already designed an entirely new security system to prevent something like that ever happening again.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He wanted to say that he always feared her being with him would put her in danger like this.

He wanted to say that maybe she should stay away from him.

He wanted to say that him and the kids didn’t deserve her.

He wanted to say that the only reason this happened is because Talia hated that she loved her son better than she ever did.

But Bruce had never been good at saying how he actually felt – or even acknowledging he had any feelings at all.

So Y/N brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Bruce, I know,” she said once again.

“I won’t let it happen again. I promise you,” he told her evenly.

“Bruce, I knew what I signed up for when you told me you were Batman. If I wasn’t willing to face the reality of it, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you hadn’t.”

There was a knock at the door and then it opened a second later.

Damian jumped awake at the sound. But then he quickly brought his attention to Y/N. “You’re awake.”

But everyone’s attention was on Dick, who was standing at the open doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted Y/N, surprised to see that she was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. But I’ll be alright.”

He seemed to relax from her answer.

Then he winced when he looked at Bruce. “They put the signal up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them to handle it, not wanting to leave Y/N alone now that she had woken up.

“Go, Bruce. I’ll be OK.” Y/N told him, reading his mind.

“I think it’s the Joker,” Dick added with a serious frown.

“Bruce, go.” Y/N repeated.

And he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, deciding he didn’t care if his two sons were witnesses to the intimacy.

Then Bruce kissed her forward. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Alfred will be here if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded.

Bruce stood up and acknowledged Damian and Dick. “Let’s go.”

Once they were ways down the hall, Bruce heard Damian stop.

“Father?”

Bruce and Dick both turned to face Damian.

“I wish to stay with Y/N.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look, and then Dick decided to give the two a moment alone and muttered something about waiting in the cave.

Bruce walked back to his youngest son.

Damian’s gaze was glued on the floor. “Mother truly would’ve killed her?”

Bruce sighed. “Most likely, yes.” He saw no point in lying to his son.

“Because she knows that you and I love her?”

“Yes.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. But Bruce knew he had more to say.

“I used to think I had to earn it.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mother’s love. I had to earn it. Win in combat. Successfully execute a target. Outsmart a puzzle or challenge.” Damian looked up at his father with a broken expression. “Her love always came with a price.”

Bruce kneeled down to his son.

The boy shook his head. “But Y/N made me realize that I don’t have to earn anyone’s love. I don’t have to prove that I’m worthy of it.” He bit his lip. “She’s not my father or my brother. She didn’t have to love me. But she does…even when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone is deserving of love, Damian.” Bruce gripped his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for not teaching you that myself.”

Damian nodded. “So, may I please stay with her tonight? I don’t want her to be alone.” But then he quickly corrected himself. “Unless of course, you require my assistance, father.”

Bruce smirked at him. “I think we will manage, Damian.” Then he squeezed his shoulder. “Look after her for me, alright?”

Damian relaxed and quickly nodded his head. “Of course, father.”

When Bruce returned hours later, Damian was cuddled next to Y/N in the bed. But clearly laying in a position to be mindful of her injuries. Both were fast asleep. The bright television was the only thing lighting the room, as it played a Pixar movie.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“I got him,” Dick whispered to him before stepping into the room and carefully lifting the boy in his arms, clearing the space in the bed for Bruce to join Y/N.

Bruce moved about the room as he changed into cotton shorts and went without a shirt.

Y/N woke slightly as he joined her in bed.

“Everything OK?” She whispered sleepily.

“Everything’s fine. Did Damian keep you company?”

Y/N smiled and shifted her body so she was cuddle into him. “Yes…my little protector.”

Bruce smiled at that. “Don’t let him hear the ‘little’ part…”

She chuckled. “Good call.”

And then she was fast asleep once again.

-----------------------

Please, please, please let me know what you think!

#bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x batmom #damian wayne x batmom!reader #batmom #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman reader insert #batman x reader #damian wayne & batmom!reader #damian wayne & batmom #talia al ghul #damian al ghul #batman universe

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writersblog20 · 3 years ago

Text

Sent from heaven

Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: It’s been a horrible week so far. Your depression and anxiety were at their highest right now. To make matters worse, you had to deal with horrible clients this week. Maybe a, not so much of a stranger, can let you see the beauty of the world again.

Warnings: anxiety, depression, touch starved, FLUFF!

Words 3,3K

Sent from heaven

You were done to say the least. You just wanted to get home and curl up in bed and be forgotten by the world, just wanted to be left alone by everyone. It wasn’t because of the horrible clients you had to deal with although that definitely wasn’t working in your favor. Your depression and anxiety were acting up a lot. Maybe it was the change of the season although you found the transition between fall and winter rather nice. You just felt like shit. That’s all you knew for sure. The last time you actually genuinely laughed was about two months ago. It wasn’t strange that your mental health was acting up but you don’t think it was ever this horrible. Like it was getting harder every year.

You packed your stuff to go home. You had to overwork because one of your clients. You were the last one so you had to close the building. It was pouring rain and besides that it was misty. You let out a very loud sigh, being very much done with, well quite everything. You made your way to the train station only to be greeted with train problems. You had to walk 20 minutes to get to another station and you had no other options at this point so you just started walking. You put on some music on and made your way. Not even after 3 minutes you were absolutely soaked and you still had about 17 minutes to go.

You felt like crying but you felt numb as well. there were so many emotions that you couldn’t quite figure out what you were feeling at this point. It was a lot to take in and you’ve bottled everything up. you rubbed your eyes in frustration only to be greeted with your mascara on the back of your hands. You pulled out your phone to fix it at least a little bit. You wanted to scream the lungs out of your body but instead you let out another sigh and groan.

You were walking into the city which meant that you were close by now. Your hair was dripping at this point, there wasn’t a piece of clothing that was spared to be dry and you were cold to the bone. You drowned in your music, not really paying attention, because why would you at this point.

You got pulled out of your foggy mind to be greeted by a hard chest. You fell on the ground and felt something hot going over you. That was it. Here comes the tears. “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry!” you heard a rather nice, soothing voice say. It was a long time that someone didn’t scream or yell at you or said something in a normal tone at least.

You looked up but couldn’t see the person because of the tears pooling up in your eyes, you could only figure out the silhouette. You saw the figure crouched down in front of you and a hand on your shoulder. Only when the tears started to stream down your face you could see the person. It was Tom Hiddleston. Your absolute favorite actor of all times. Great! You looked like a wet, sad dog that was sitting on the ground crying your eyes out. You figured that when you bumped in to him, he dropped his coffee or tea over you. Well you were already drenched to the bone so that wasn’t a problem anymore.

He looked worried at you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?” he asked you but you just shook your head, you didn’t trust your voice at this point. He talked to you so nicely and you forgot how that felt. All of a sudden you had the urge to be held, which made you let out a sob. Tom’s hand never left your shoulder. He rubbed it softly while he held his umbrella above you two, not that it matter much anymore but it was a nice gesture.

“Let me help you get up, sweetheart.” You nodded and grabbed his hand when he held it out for you to take. He guided you to the side more, for a little more coverage for the rain. You sniffled “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Let me pay for your coffee or tea.” you told him, avoiding eye contact and looking through your wallet. His hand went over top of it, which made you look up. He smiled softly and kindly to you. “don’t worry about it love. I’m more worried about you.” you felt the tears come again and felt guilty.

You let out a uncomfortable laugh and bottled up your emotions again. “You don’t have to. Just a….. a bad week I guess. Nothing to worry about.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile even though you knew it wasn’t working. He gave you an even softer kind smile than before. “I’m sorry but I’m having a hard time to believe that.” You nodded, understanding it. “Where are you heading to?” he asked you softly while touching your arm softly.

You looked at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I promise. I just want you to get home safely.” He told you. “No I know. I know who you are. I like your movies a lot.” You chuckled uncomfortably. “Well in that case, I hope you know that I’m not a creep. Please let me walk you where you have to go. I’ll feel better knowing that you’re safe and sound.” You nodded. “I’m Y/N” you held out your hand for him to shake. He smiled sweetly at you. “I’m Tom, but you already know that.” He said with a chuckle and shook your hand.

You walked towards the other train station. “So Y/N, tell me about your week then.” He told you sweetly. You looked up at him in surprise. “Oh no, don’t mind that. I don’t want to bother you with it. it’s not even that horrible, I just…. I’m just having a hard time to cope I guess.” You chuckled sourly. He stopped walking which made you turn around. “you’re not bothering me, I promise! Besides bottling everything up isn’t a great deal to cope in any way. I would still like to hear about your week, positive or negative.” He told you and you thought about it. Deciding it was best to just tell everything and let it all out.

Tom listened carefully and looked a lot at you, letting you know he was listening. “And now were here…. I’m not even going to lie, you were the first person that spoke to me nicely in the last month or so. I started to think that kindness was out of this world.” You looked down and felt tears again. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you a positive story right now. It feels like forever that something positive happened besides meeting you.” you let out a shy giggle at the last part. He smiled at you. “I’m glad I could be at service.” He told you.

“I’m sorry that all of that happened to you, nobody deserves that and definitely not you.” he placed his hand softly on your shoulder. You felt yourself grow shy. You arrived at the train station only to see that the train going your way was out of service until at least the next day. You rubbed your temples in distress and Tom noticed.

You looked up at him. “Thank you for walking with me and listening to me but you’ve already done too much.” You gave him a sad smile. “But you’re not home yet, still in distress and your train isn’t riding.” He told you a little confused. Once again you gave him a sad smile “Thank you really, but I don’t want to drag you into my mess. I’ll figure it out. I don’t want to hold you up, like I said, you’ve already done too much.” He placed both of his hands on your arms. “Sweetheart, I’m not leaving you behind here in the cold. You’re absolutely not bothering me! I actually like your presence. Let’s figure it out together. I might show you some positive things.” He gave you a reassuring smile. You were gob smacked that he liked your presence, you didn’t even liked your own presence so why would he? You know he wasn’t going to give up and most of you was very happy with that.

You felt the tears again. “Thank you Tom. You don’t know how much that means to me.” he smiled at you. “Can I give you hug?” he asked for your permission. You nodded and he pulled you softly in his arm. His hand was resting on the back of your head, which he gently pulled in the crook of his neck. His other hand softly rubbed your back while he softly rocked you. You held onto him for dear life not wanting to let go once you felt the tears fall. You were absolutely touch starved and you felt your walls crumbling down in his arms. “I promise you, the world is beautiful. Give me a chance to show you that.” He whispered in your ear and you nodded.

He let you hold him for as long as you needed. Once you pulled back he looked at you. “Come here.” He told you and took your hand leading you to the side. “Take off your coat sweetheart.” You did as he said. He pulled out a dry cardigan. “Take of your soaked sweater and put these on love.” He gave you a sweet look. He gave you the cardigan and nodded to the toilet. You walked towards the lady’s bathroom and took off your sweater and put on his cardigan. It smelled amazing, like him. you gave a warm feeling but felt like he did all of this out of pity which you didn’t like. You put your hair in a messy bun and fixed your make-up.

You walked back out and was greeted by his smile. “Thank you” you said softly. “Let’s get you warm and get some coffee before we make our way.” You nodded. He held out his hand for you to grab and so you did.

You walked into a nice cozy coffeeshop. There was a wood stove in a corner with large seats. You chose that spot. You got your coffee and so did Tom. He wanted to pay but this time you placed your hand on his wallet, taking out yours. “please, let me pay for this. it’s the least I could do and I would feel very bad if you’d pay for this.” he noticed that you left no room for a discussion so he nodded and took a small step back.

You got the coffees and sat down. “so… tell me a little about yourself.” He told you. you felt a little bit in a better spirit so you told him about yourself, your dreams, studies, hopes, family, passions etc. Tom noticed that you were a positive person who was just going through a lot. He loved hearing you talk. Your face lit up talking about your passions and dreams. There wasn’t a negative thing in that moment. He smiled at you and asked more about certain topics.

“What about a boyfriend?” he asked carefully. You shook your head a little and chuckled. “There is none. Just waiting for the right person I guess. And you? a special lady in your life?” you asked him carefully. He shook his head as well. “No, same as you actually.” You nodded. It became quiet, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. You looked at Tom who was already staring at you with a sweet, loving smile at you. You grew flustered again. “I can’t thank you enough Tom.” His smile grew wider. “Believe me dear, it’s all my pleasure.” You smiled again and drank your coffee in silence.

“so I told you a lot about myself…. Now it’s your turn.” You told him with a smile. Tom thought about it. “I will, if you want to go on a date with me…” he asked you. you looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have to go on a date with me out of pity.” This time he looked at you in surprise. “I’m not asking you out of pity but because you’re a beautiful, smart, interesting woman.” You got a shy smile. “In that case, I would love to.” He got a wide smile and blushed a little. “Then I’ll tell you all about myself, but right now I like to listen to you and your stories.” You smiled.

Tom asked you some stuff and you had a lot of similarities that you liked. After a while you both decided to make your way again. You both stepped outside and you shivered a little. Tom noticed and took of his scarf, standing closely in front of you. he carefully placed it around you. He looked in deeply in your eyes. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach. You looked down out of habit and he took a step back noticing it.

You carefully placed your cold hand in his. He looked at you in surprise. “Is this okay?” you carefully asked. He gave you a smile and placed the top of your hand against his soft lips, giving it a kiss. “It’s more than okay darling.” you started walking and Tom pointed out a lot of beautiful things. You started to point out of the things that you liked. Every time Tom would look at you with love in his eyes and give you a smile.

It stopped raining and it now it was only misty giving a nice ambiance. Tom pointed out a big building where you could go upstairs and watch the city from above. You smiled and nodded, he grabbed your hand and let you inside. You started to make a sprint in and Tom looked at you in surprised but immediately smiled and sprinted behind you and took your hand while running. You let go of his hand after a while and made a twirl out of happiness, that you haven’t felt in forever. You felt so free and careless, without any worry on your mind. He took your hand and made you do a twirl and pulled you closer, dancing softly while you had the biggest smile on your face. After a very quick dance you walked upstairs giggling.

You saw the view and was mesmerized. You looked at Tom with a smile while he stared at you. You leaned against the railing with your hand holding your head up. Tom leaned against it as well but instead of looking at the view he looked at you. After a while you looked at Tom already meeting his eyes. he gave you a brighter smile. He stopped leaning and got closer to you. You looked up at him with big eyes.

He softly placed his finger underneath your chin, and got closer but waited for a second so you could pull away but you never did. Your noses touched, and what seemed like forever, you lips met. He still waited with moving so you could still pull away but again you never did. You took initiative and started moving. You could feel him breath in the kiss out of relaxation, scared that you would reject him. you grabbed his coat by his waist and pulled him closer. His big hand found your cheek while his other hand was placed on your back.

God you were touch starved and this felt like literal heaven. You felt his tongue slip in and it was the best kiss you’ve ever had. He pulled back and placed his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait.” He told you. “I didn’t wanted you to wait.” He smiled and gave you another kiss. When he pulled away he looked deeply into your eyes. Nobody looked at you with this much love. He placed a stay of hair, that fell out of your messy bun, behind your ear and giving you another kiss after. “God your addicting.” He told you chuckling which made you smile shyly.

You both made your way again hand in hand. It didn’t took long before you walked into your street. You stood in front of your door. “Do you maybe want to come in for coffee or tea?” you asked him carefully. He smiled “Only if you really want to.” You smiled. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” He nodded and followed you into your cozy apartment.

“It’s really nice here!” he told you and smiled. “Thank you.” you put on the fire place and made tea. “I’m going to get some dry clothes.” He nodded. You took of Tom’s cardigan and got into some comfortable clothes. You walked out and gave him the cardigan. He smiled again and shook his head. “You can give it back another time. You look better in it anyway and I’ll bet you’ll take great care of it.” you smiled and placed it close to your chest.

You got the tea and took a seat next to Tom. “Tomorrow I’m having a play. I’d love if you’d come and watch it. if you want and can.” He asked you. You smiled. “I’m already one step ahead of you. I already have a ticket for tomorrow actually.” You chuckled and he looked surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” he chuckled as well. you shrugged “I didn’t want to scare you, thinking I’m some sort of stalker.” He laughed. “Well, meet me backstage after, we can have a drink if you want to.” “I would love that.” You told him with a smile.

“I had the most amazing time with you Tom.” He smiled and placed his finger underneath your chin again. “So did I sweetheart.” He pulled you closer and kissed you again. You sighed in the kiss as did he, melting into each other. After the loving, passionate kiss you rested against Tom. You started to feel tired, Tom noticed. “I’ll head home so you can have a peaceful sleep.” He told you ready to get up. You looked at the time and it was already 1:30 AM. “Tom, you can sleep here for the night. It’s already very late.” You told him. “Only if your comfortable with that.” You corrected your sentence. “Are you comfortable with that? I don’t want to overstay my welcome here.” He told you respectfully. You smiled “I’d sleep better if I knew you were safe and sound.” You repeated his sentence he gave you when you met.

He smiled at you. “Okay then.” Luckily you had a very big comfortable couch that you’ve felt asleep on multiple times. You got out all the blankets and pillows and placed them on the couch and laid next to him. He pulled you in to his arms and you got comfortable. You rested your arm over his torso, keeping him close. He gave you a kiss on your head “Goodnight my dear.” He told you. “Goodnight love.” You told him back and you could feel his heartbeat skip a beat which made you smile. It didn’t took long before sleep took over the both of you and it was in a very long time, that you actually had a good night rest. Feeling safe and sound like he wanted you to. This day began as the worst day ever and turned in one of the best nights of your life.

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sweetaesuga · 5 years ago

Text

in your eyes | m

pairing: jungkook x female reader!

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, fratboy jk! ex-fuckboy jk! bookworm reader! friends to lovers!

warnings: language, insecurity, drinking, dom jungkook! fingering in public, exhibitionism, female masturbation, grinding, oral (m), dirty talk, light choking, degrading (slut/whore), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (both are clean but stay safe), bathroom sex, riding, pinning.

word count: 10.6k+

synopsis: jungkook always sees you like the only girl in the world, and you just see him as a fuckboy. OR jungkook just wants a chance🥺

↳ a/n: first time i ever write a fic or smut please enjoy🤧

You were only sixteen when you met him. He stepped into the classroom in all dark baggy clothes in an uneasy walk. At first glance you would of thought he was a timid person. Wrong, under all of that bullshit you see an egoistic and self-assured asshole that you're somehow happy to call your friend. You even learned that it was facade. Jungkook was a boy with a good heart who always remained loyal to all of his friends.

Jungkook just turned seventeen when he met you, noticing you straight away when you had a nice sense of fashion. You always had on an accessory that matched with the color of your shirt or jeans. You also always wore a bit of bright colors in your outfits. The bright unique makeup is what caught his attention too. He was proud to call you his friend.

When you both happily entered the same college along with your best friend Hayoon, everything changed. He began hanging out with a new group of friends, they were all older than them and deeply influenced him. He joined a fraternity then and began spending less time with you. He only came over to study or celebrate your birthday. His busyness merely reminded you how he preferred to spend his time hooking up with random girls every week rather than play board games with you or rant to him about your new book you were reading.

You don't exactly remember when he started but you do remember all the girls that talked about how amazing he was in bed which solely added more uncertainty on you. You even walked in on him and a freshman girl going at it in one of the sorority’s room at a party you were both attending.

The memory of when he started crushing on you was foggy to you but he always remembered it in a flash. It was when he had a taekwondo match, where circumstantially Jungkook's girlfriend, who wasn't really his girlfriend, at the time couldn't make it. His hopes were put down by the thought of someone not supporting him, since he always tried his best with his own cheerleader being there.

In the middle of the match, his eyes scanned the bleachers, wishing for someone to be there. His wishes were granted as he saw you there. Standing awkwardly, you gave him a little wave with a smile. His chest heaved in glee, sending you a quick smile before he returned to his match.

The sound of you screaming his name when he won, put a enormous smile on his face. Jungkook watched you run down the bleachers, apologizing to all the people you were bumping through. You leaped into his arms easily.

Your next words to him were a blur since Jungkook was too focused on just having you in his arms. He was grinning happily at you, hair sticking to his forehead. His heart heaved with warmth as you hugged him tightly.

He was twenty-one and you were twenty when he realized he had a crush on you.

You were seventeen when you realized you liked him.

But you were nineteen when you realized you would never be good enough for him.

"He then had the audacity to ask me if I slept with anyone else! The nerve of that guy," you felt like your ear was going to bleed out just by listening to your best friend blabber about her ex-boyfriend.

"Why don't you just stop talking to him? I don't know...block his number or something?" you suggested, very uninterested in this conversation about her ex-boyfriend contacting her. She could simply just block him out her life and be done with him.

You stared at the worn out rubber of the tip of your black converse. She popped the gum in her mouth, the sound became annoying to you. Hayoon squinted her eyes at you, trying to find something to say to argue back to you. She instead changed the subject. "Where were you on Saturday?"

"Studying like the rest of the students here," you moved to rest your weight onto your right leg. "I just can't seem to understand how finals are coming up and some people are out here partying? The library was packed when I got there."

"Yeah well I wouldn't know because I didn't go," she grinned at you. "Instead I went to a party because I'm not a loser like you!" Hayoon giggled to herself and you rolled your eyes. "Also," she popped the gum loudly. "Jungkook was asking for you. Calling for his dream girl. . .or something like that—I don't know can't remember—too drunk you know?"

Your ears perked up to that. "Really?" you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that got in the way and leaned forward. "Did you remember why he was looking for me?"

Hayoon grinned again. "Even if I do know why would you care? Don't you hate him or something?" she smiled evilly and threw her head back.

You froze and leaned back to your seat. You know what she was trying to do and it was never going to happen.

You were never going to give Jeon Jungkook a chance.

Jungkook stumbled into the library, eyes searching for you immediately. There was nearly a crowd of students that were preparing for finals. "Hey have you guys seen Y/N?" he asked a study group. A girl in your class answered him, telling him that you were somewhere by the windows.

Of course you were, he thought to himself. You would be seated at your usual spot. He walked over to the windows and spotted you straight away. Watching your figure become closer as he walked further, he took the sandwich out of his bag. "Hey Y/N!" you already knew that voice. You looked up at Jungkook. As usual he looked drop-dead gorgeous. He wore his usual dark baggy outfit, a black cargo jogger and a much darker hoodie with some black combat boots. He was showing off his helix piercing and his fresh new haircut.

"Nice haircut," you referred to his undercut and the fact that he was showing forehead. "Seems like you spent a lot of time on it."

"Yeah! Just for you," he smiled, his cheeks being pushed up. You let out a heavy sigh, clearly not in the mood for his flirtatiousness. "Got you a sandwich, by the way," he laid it in front of you.

You let out a small smile and took it from him, trying not to show how your mouth got watery so quickly. "Thanks, you didn't have to though," he shook his head.

"I don't want you starving to death," he sat down next to you, shoulder pressing against yours. "What are you studying for?" his nose nuzzled your ear. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away, ignoring the goosebumps his warm breath caused.

"Just getting my notes ready. Wanna highlight or color code it but feel like it's going to fuck up everything. Also don't wanna be those fucking girls that always have to make their fucking notes pretty. Also, do I look tired?" he studied your face for any features that made you seem exhausted. "I was up till two in morning watching these two Indian guys build a pool."

His eyes lit up. "Oh my god, I come across from those too."

"I know they came up all over my fucking Youtube recommendations. I got sucked into binge watching them. It makes me feel fucking lazy to be honest, the amount of fucking water they carry back and forth. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Jungkook snickered and made a note of how much you swore. "I need to make a swear jar for you. You swear too much."

"Not even," you laughed back at him and nudged his shoulder. "I'm just a little frustrated and stressed right now," his gaze dropped on the purple pins in your hair, holding each side of your hair. "I called my mom and she said to not stress over this, but you know how I get," you frowned and turned to him. He finally took in your appearance. Your bright purple eyeshadow with purple gems adorning the top of it. You wore a purple flare pants and a white long sleeved, deep v-line crop top. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, trying to see if you had a bra on.

"Holy shit Y/N!" the students around him shushed him. He burned up and muttered a sorry to them, you giggled at how embarrassed he looked. "You look amazing. What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," you shook your head, a smile still on your face. "Can't I dress up once in awhile?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, knowing that you normally only wear outfits like this when they’re new or it’s the first week of school. "Okay," you dragged your word out. "I got this outfit last week and really wanted to use it today. It's cute right?"

"Yeah, really cute," he toyed with your hair pins, messing up your hair.

Neglecting his comment, you carried on. "I even got up in early in the morning to do my makeup. If I'm gonna show up wearing a new outfit, I might as well have a cute ass face to go with it," you frowned when you remembered something. "And I realized I don't have different color hair pins, they're all purple so thank fuck the fucking pants are purple."

"Well I think you look very cute, Y/N. Boop!" he poked your nose gently. You swatted his hand away, warning him to stop but all you're given is a large bunny smile. "Come on, eat your sandwich. I didn't just come all the way over here searching for you just to talk to you."

"Actually you did bitch."

"Oof, swear jar," he rested his palm out in front you. You took a bite out of the sandwich, placing a quarter on his palm. "No a dollar, Y/N."

"No! What the fuck—wait!" he held out his palm again. "That's not fucki—hold up, you can't just say a dollar," you whined and grabbed your bag. "I don't have money growing out of my ass."

"I don't know that yet. I'm gonna have to check to make sure," you threw a dollar at him. He laughed and picked it up.

"I know your kind," you spatted at him and tossed the other two dollars at him which he easily caught. "Wanna drain my f-freaking bank account."

"Oh come on, I want you to be my sugar mama," he jested, leaning forward to give you a huge smug.

"Sucks to be you actually. I'm looking to be a sugar baby, not a sugar mama," you glanced over your shoulder towards him. His laugh echoed and you watched as students gave him a dirty look from how loud it was.

"Of course. You're the brokest bitch in the city no one actually wants you to be their sugar mama," you gasped at his words.

"Am not!"

"Are so!" you both laughed at each other. His hand searched for yours underneath the table. He must've noticed how tensed up you had gotten when he found it, managing to wrap your smaller fingers into his. "I've been meaning to talk to you by the way."

You groaned, knowing where this will be going. "Jungkook, stop I'm not in the mood," you caught a quick glimpse of the time. "Look, I have to go, my bus will be coming soon." You don't let him mention anything else. Bolting out of the library, you leave a crestfallen Jungkook behind.

He shook his head and took the half eaten sandwich you also left behind. He trailed behind you, backpack threatening to fall down his arm. You proceeded to walk to the bus stop, Jungkook just close behind. "Didn't see you at the party on Saturday?" the voice came from behind you. You opt to ignore it but by the sound of his voice it was easy to tell that he has been dying to ask this question. When you didn't answer him, he tried again. "Seriously where were you on Saturday?"

You sunk down on the bench. "None of your business."

"Well, I was kind of worried about you. I thought you were going to be there so that's why I came," he took a seat right besides you. "Once I saw you weren't there, I left."

"I was at the library studying for finals," you weren't sure why you were telling him this. After his little confession your heart felt weird. If you hadn't told him though, he probably would've guessed it. Still, he needed confirmation.

"What? Why didn't you tell me? We could’ve studied together!" he complained, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook stop, I know what you're doing," you glared at him, wanting to get away. He frowned and reached over to hold you. "I already told you no," you hissed, disregarding the way his eyes appeared sunken at your response.

"Why not? I already told you, I'm not messing around anymore. I genuinely want to settle down with someone," he stared into your eyes with such intensity you felt like your brain was going to explode. Your ears took in his words slowly. "I want to be with you."

"Jungkook, please—"

"Come on, one date. I swear to god I've changed," he ranted. He's always been very keen on having a chance with you, but with all those girls that he used to take home you felt otherwise. You would listen to the girls on how good Jungkook was. How good he looked at night in the dark moonlight. How he would manhandle them in random places. How his muscles would appear every time he flexed them. How those hips of his were a miracle. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't ever want to see him that way too.

"I'm flattered, I really am—I just really don't want to be with someone like you. I'm sorry," you apologized, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He blinked then squinted his eyes at you. "What do you mean someone like me?" He sounded somewhat offended at your words.

"You used to fuck around!" you fumed and threw your hands up. The bus was coming down the road towards the two of you. "I don't like that."

"Why not?" He's way too stubborn to let you go, you forgot.

"Because...I just don't okay? Lets leave it there," you stood up and walked over to the bus once it opened its doors. He followed close behind. Before you can enter your dollar into the machine, he does it for you.

The bus driver smiled at him while you glared at him. You walked to the back of the bus, smiling to all the other passengers but secretly upset. Jungkook still followed you like a lost puppy. You slid down in the seat. Your left arm feeling the side of the bus once you properly sat down. "Here, I'll pay you back," you hold out the dollar bill but he sat still in his seat.

"Well shit, sugar mama not right now," You sighed and put it back in your bag. You heard him snort.

"Come on, tell me why you won't give me a chance and I'll leave you alone," he offered. He held your eyes for a moment before you let out a breath of air and looked away.

If he’ll leave you alone, then you must have to say why you won’t grant him a chance with you, a chance for him to become your boyfriend.

"I'm too insecure for you," he opened his mouth but you shushed him. "I'm not...how do I put this? I'm not like them?" you questioned and glanced over at him. He had a look of worry washed all over his face. "The girls that you were with are those who are all popular, party all day, and are very attractive. They all do casual sex, and I don't want be that type of person, I want something serious. Like you have dated Soojin! She's really pretty, makes me gay even," you chuckled at yourself. "That's not the point though. If I'm with you, all I could ever think about is the girls you were with and how different I am from them. I just can't be with someone when all I'll ever think about are my insecurities with them. So how could I possibly ever be good enough for you?" you don't look at him after that.

He sighed and gripped your small hand into his. You almost cringed when you remembered how sweaty your hands were. "That's why I'm after you though. You're not like them. I wanted a change. You are good enough, you'll always be good enough for me. Hell, I feel like I’m not good enough for you. And I really don't care if you're any of that other stuff. I still want to have a shot with you." you don't realize how long you both were holding eye contact. The two of you don't look away from each other however. You don’t even comprehend how close you two have gotten. He reached over to push back a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched.

"I don't know Jungkook, I'm just really unsure," you admitted and leaned back in your seat to create some distance between you two. "My mind isn't clear right now but I highly doubt I would want to give you a chance."

"Really? You don't want me?" he bit his lip and glanced over at you. "How can I change your mind?" you stopped functioning when he reached over to press up against your thigh. His fingers travelled over to your inner thigh. He kept rubbing circles around there for a few minutes, hand drawing closer each time. Your cheeks grew crimson once you wrapped your mind around on how wet you become so quickly, and he barely even touched you what an embarrassment.

You were only getting aroused quickly because of how long your dry spell was. You haven’t being touched in so long that you craved it so much, no matter who it was with.

"What are you doing?" you hated how you felt so hot under his eyes at the moment. He brushed you aside until you repeated your question again.

"Nothing," his lips curved upwards. He faced forward, ignoring the fact that his hand was practically between your legs.

"Jungkook, stop that!" you hissed and whacked his hand away. He withdrew his hand from your inner thigh but still kept it at the top of your thigh. His thumb gently tracing circles into your skin.

"Bet you're fucking wet under that," he commented. You caught his stare, watching his eyes fixed on your cleavage. A smile forms across his face when he takes notice of how you're rubbing your thighs together. "Don't be scared, I'll go easy on you. You wearing those pink panties that I love on you?"

You knew what he was referring to. Leaving your laundry on your bed wasn't a good idea especially when an excited Jungkook was coming over to watch a new episode of You, but he didn't give you time to pick it up so your baby pink lace underwear was out on the sheets. "Shut up. I'm not going to let you do shit," you furiously crossed your arms over your chest. His eyes flickered back down to your breasts that were shoved up into a tighter position.

"Really? You say that but you're on the verge of asking me to touch you. I know it, Y/N," you bit your lip hard to avoid saying something. You heard him laugh. "It's okay, no one will notice, if you're a good slut and keep your mouth shut." Your eyes widened at his words.

You’ve never been called a degrading name in bed. With the two boyfriends you’ve been with, they always called you loving names that had gotten boring quick as well as their vanilla sex. Yet somehow it stirred you up at the thought of being called a slut, especially Jungkook calling you that.

But it was almost like a completely different Jungkook had surfaced. You knew he was some sort of sex god but didn't expect him to have such a dirty mouth. You decided to test the waters. A little fun wouldn’t hurt.

You spread your legs a little wider, inviting him to get closer. He stared into your eyes as you stared down at his hand. "Unbutton your pants," he demanded. Your eyes expanded even more at his words. You were just thinking of getting him eager not to do something here.

You looked around to see if anyone could see or hear you two but they were all facing forward and minding their own business. Your hands went to unbutton your pants, pushing your zipper down. "Open your legs," you did as you were told. "Wider, wider," your right leg rested on top of his muscular thigh. "You wet enough?" he asked, reaching down to your core. You shivered when his hand entered your underwear. He sinks his two fingers in and you whined. He took his fingers out, gazing on the glistening wetness on it.

"Dirty fucking slut," he murmured and dig his fingers back into you. You gripped his wrist harshly but encouraged him to add more fingers. He complied and proceeded to finger you in the back of the bus. "Never thought I would finger the girl of my dreams in the back of the bus," he chuckled as he heard you calling out his name. "You gotta be quiet if you don't wanna get caught." he teased softly. He pounded his fingers into you faster. His eyes laying upon your furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip. You began to nudge into his fingers, meeting him halfway with the movement of your hips. Your grip on his wrist tightened as he touched your clit with the tip of his finger. He snorted and proceeded to move against you, ignoring his hardness that was forming in his pants. You threw your head back and stared up at the ceiling. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing blood.

Jungkook clutched your knee, forcing you to open wider. You raked over the passengers in the seat, who are still unaware of you getting fingered at the back of the bus. You moaned into his hoodie. You let go of his wrist to hold his bicep. He looked down at you. He reached over to cup your face, bringing your lips to meet his. You’re taken back a little but nonetheless you open your mouth to tempt him to slid his mouth in. He fulfilled your craving. The two of you looked like random teenagers making out in the back but what they couldn't see was his fingers stuck up your wet core.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you said under your breath, pulling away from his redden lips. His fingers pounded brutally into you. He showed no sign of slowing down.

"You make a fucking noise and I swear to god I will take you on this bus full of people. I don't give a fuck, Y/N," your pussy quenched around him at that. Your wetness glimmered on his fingers.

"Oh my god, Jungkook, oh my god," you moaned against his neck. Hiding your face from him, you picked up the pace of your hips. "Uh—fuck, holy shit do that again," you referred to him touching your clit. He does that again. "Oh fuck," you whimpered when you felt an uneasy feeling building up within you. "I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Yeah? That fucking early? I knew your little pussy wouldn't be able to take it," Jungkook's lips formed a smirk. "And this is just with my fingers babe. Bet you can't handle my dick," you ignored him. You sobbed into his neck and leaned up to kiss him in efforts to silence your moans, cumming hard all over his fingers. It takes two minutes before you released Jungkook from the kiss. He drew his hand away from your skirt and made sure you were holding eye contact with him when he cleaned his fingers with his tongue.

You gulped. Reality finally hit you. You had let Jungkook finger you in the back of the bus.

You pushed back against your seat and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Everyone on the bus was still unaware and you felt like you can breathe again. "Holy shit I can not believe we just did that," you brushed your hair back, somewhat disappointed at yourself for not stopping him.

Jungkook's smile surfaced. "I can't believe you just let me do that. Wanna return the favor?" he asks jokingly but watched your face to see if you were willing to suck him off. His hopes are put down when a frown appeared on your face and he could tell you wouldn't feel comfortable with that. "Joking babe."

"Don't call me that, please," you stressed. "This was a mistake, seriously don't ever speak of this with any of your friends. We're not going to speak of it either."

"I wasn't even going to," he muttered and looked away. "Funny how it's a mistake, Y/N, when you were over here telling me to keep going."

You fanned yourself, flapping your hand back and forth in front of your face. Jungkook looked at the layer of sweat near your hairline that glistened under the sunlight. "Stop, it was in the heat of the moment. It seriously was a mistake," he opened his mouth but you carried on. "Especially in the back of the bus, oh god, I'm really disappointed in myself," you zipped up your flare pants, not minding that your underwear is sticking to you.

"And I'm really disappointed in you too, for not giving me a chance," Jungkook said with knitted eyebrows. You sit away from him, making sure there was a good amount of space between the two of you. "Oh are you just going to ignore me now?" he isn't given a response, your tongue knotted together in your mouth. "So that's how it's gonna be now?"

You gathered your bag. The bus curving towards the upcoming bus stop. "This is my stop," you disclosed. He captured your forearm which quickly caught your attention.

"Don't be like this, Y/N." You shrug him off and walked out of the bus, leaving Jungkook and his gloomy thoughts behind.

"Shut up, stop playing with me!" Hayoon exclaimed, her eyes glimmered with interest as you filled her in on the day before. "You did not let Jungkook finger you on the back of the bus," she laughed out loud at her sentence, still not believing the words coming out of your mouth. You groaned and sunk your head back down on the table. "I mean gross, but hey, you're catching dick."

"I'm not catching dick, and stop saying it's gross it makes me even more disappointed in myself."

"I just don't understand how you can tell him you don't want him and tell him the reasons why and then let him finger you at the back of the bus?!" your face scrunched up at her words. "I seriously don't get it Y/N. It's like you're provoking the guy that's going after you and that's pretty fucked up. Play with his dick, not his emotions, oh wait—”

"I told him no multiple times."

"Then why the fuck would you let him finger you in the back of a bus?" Hayoon rubbed her temple before munching on a fry. "I think you do have a crush on him, you just don't want to date him because of all the girls he’s been with.”

You let her words settle in your mind for a moment, not even realizing that she held your hand in hers. "But baby, that's called the past. It's the least thing you got to worry about since you already know it. Take a risk, go out with him. He's ready to be in a serious relationship with you, he's been telling me this since Friday."

You sighed, lips forming a pout. "I don't know."

"Well make up your mind quick cause' he's coming this way," her words are rushed as she glanced over at Jungkook, who's heading over your way.

"What?!" you're just about to turn your head his direction when Hayoon grabbed your jaw.

"What are you doing you stupid bitch?! Don't look—okay, pretend like I'm not here, pretend like I'm not here!" she turned away from you and placed her earbuds in her ears.

"Wait does my hair look good?!" you caught her by the arm before she can leave.

"For who?"

You snapped her head towards Jungkook, who's already smiling at you. His black cap floated over his eyes as he dug his fingers into the pockets of his jogger pants. You coughed when you perceived that you were checking him out. "Um, no one. Just wanted to see if it's messy," you don't know why but your cheeks burned so hard, maybe at the fact that you know it is messy.

His hand came in contact with your head before he moved a strand of your hair that looked out of place before pushing your baby hairs down. You swatted his hands away, ignoring how your warm ears were tingling. "There, it's not that messy anymore. I brought something."

He sat down besides you. You eyes fluttered over to Hayoon. She spread a smirk out on her lips. While Jungkook continued finding the item he wanted to show you, something along the words that it was a jar. Her fist comes up besides her mouth, opening it slightly. Your cheeks become crimson when she began to push her left fist towards her mouth while her tongue kept knocking into her right cheek.

"Here," Jungkook placed a jar in front of you, the bright glittery letters mocking you. Swear Jar, it read at the front. "Every time you cuss, it's more money to my bank account."

Your lips loop downwards into a frown. Your eyebrows furrowed together in the progress. "Not fair, I told you I didn't want to be a sugar mama."

"Fine, this is both of our swear jar."

"Deal."

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, we can talk about yesterday," he put the glittery jar, he decorated last night for you, back in his backpack. A sudden weight pressed down on your shoulders at the thought of him bringing up what happened yesterday.

"Jesus Christ, what do you carry in there?" Hayoon added unintentionally and you're thankful for that. As much as she wanted to know about the encounter between the two of you, she also wanted to know what Jungkook carried in that big bag of his.

"Dildos."

"Wait, deadass?" she jumped up in her seat. I snorted at her, earning a glare. Jungkook's lips formed a line, specifying that he was joking. "Well fuck, it just looks like it's gonna break your back. Dude you know what that reminds me of?" she asked you. Your mind doesn't come across anything so you shook your head. "The Rosie girl? She was giving dildos out at this campus cause' she wanted to, quote, fight absurdity with absurdity. All over Twitter. Wish I could be there to get one."

Jungkook's eyes crinkled up as he laughed at her. The sound ringing through your ears, only to devaste you even more. "Can we talk about yesterday?" he leaned over and whispered to you.

You swore you felt his lips brushing against your ear. It stirred up your brain. "What about yesterday?" your hands started shaking and you hoped he didn't see how anxious you have become.

Luck wasn't on your side today however, his upcoming question boosting your anxiety even more. "Why are your hands shaking so much?" he grasped his bigger hand in yours.

You are quick to take it out of his. "We agreed that we wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday. It was a mistake I didn't—"

"No, you agreed that we wouldn't talk about it," his voice raised slightly to get your attention. Your mouth snapped shut. "We need to talk about it. How the fuck can you be playing with my feelings like this?" Hayoon whistled, mentally seeing eye to eye with Jungkook. "I want to have a chance with you, a shot at us. You give me all these mixed signals and then when I try to make a move on you, all of the sudden you act like a bitch Y/N."

"Well what do you want me to say? That I fucking like you back too?" you challenged and stood up from your chair. The students around you turned their heads over to you, watching the scene in front of them unfold. "How the fuck am I even playing with your feelings? I said I wanted to just be friends! I'm sorry that you're misinterpreted our friendship but that's not my problem!" you wished you could've shut your mouth but all you could see was red. Perhaps you were letting go of all the rage you’ve ever resented over him for the past months.

For ditching you to attend parties or being with other girls. For not always being there for you.

"What the fuck do you mean that's not my problem?!" he mimicked you, staring up at you. "You let me finger you and you expect me to believe that you just wanna be friends? Are you even listening to yourself?! You felt something back there."

Hayoon stepped in, walking over to the two of you. "Okay, I think you guys should just shut up," your eyes wandered around the room, where everyone was watching your interaction.

"Whatever," Jungkook's chair scraped the floor harshly as he pushed it back. He dug into his backpack before placing the jar in front of you. "You can keep that and this," he put down a package full of glittery hair pins, all different colors. Your heart wrenched as you watched him walk away, sullen. His steps are quick so he can take the attention off of him.

You turned the jar and saw that the top had words on it. Splattered in messy pink glitter, Sugar Mama's Swear Jar :D.

Jungkook was avoiding you. You could tell because he stopped coming after school to study with you, which was okay at first until you found yourself yearning for him.

It was stupid, really. After all that debate on how you two should just stay friends, you can't just tell him how much you miss him. That'll make you seem like an ass.

And trust me that's the last thing you want.

Your day was going bad, your professor yelled at you for not paying attention and put you in the spot, embarrassing you in front of the class. You were okay until a girl gave you a look of pity and you had a breakdown in the bathroom right after.

When you went to go meet up with Hayoon, it'll only got worse. She cancelled on you after forcing you to wait for her for thirty minutes. Just as you're leaving a group of middle schoolers thought it would be funny to step on a ketchup packet and let splatter everywhere, resulting in the back of your white top covered in dots of ketchup.

You swore you almost hit the kid who came up with it, even thought about running him over when you saw that the stains were everywhere and even in your hair.

After showering and getting the ketchup out of your hair, you went to work that ensued in you coming home with mascara practically running down your eyes, that were ready to pour out tears if something else happened to you, due to you wrongly mixing up orders and getting yelled out by a customer.

Now here you were, sitting on the living room floor with wet hair after taking another shower which mainly just involved you sitting on the tile floor and crying. You ate the Chinese takeout you have gotten during the way, ignoring the way people were staring at you, with sympathy.

It was the last thing you needed. Maybe karma was coming to get you for saying those things to Jungkook. But at this point all you wanted was some reassurance, a shoulder to cry on, someone to be there for you.

Jungkook.

You couldn't sleep. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Hell, you even closed your eyes for a solid thirty minutes yet you were not able to drift off into slumber. Maybe it had to due with the weather? It was freezing, if you stepped a foot outside you would become an ice sculpture in an instant.

Or maybe, the most logical one compared to all the others, was Jungkook fingering you on the bus. You can't seem to get that scene off your mind. Your brain kept drifting over on how stunning he appeared, his dark eyes staring straight at yours as he watched your mouth form an O shape. He only ever broke eye contact when he snuck a look of how his fingers vanished into your pants.

Then your mind would stumble onto the memory of you yelling at him, telling him how his feelings for you were not your fault. You despised yourself at that moment. You sighed and laid back into your pillow, staring up into the ceiling. "I can't believe I am even having these types of thoughts," you slowly opened your legs while shutting your eyes. As long as you don't think about him, it'll be okay.

But you do. Sliding off your underwear, the first thing you thought about was Jungkook. His bunny smile rested on his face. You opened your eyes to get him off your mind and closed them again. You let out a gentle moan when you feel how wet you are.

He came back again. This time he settled right besides you on the bed. His hand is shoved between your legs. You moaned when he buried his head in your neck and kissed your skin there. "You like that, princess?"

You frowned immediately, he didn't call you any pet names. From what you can remember, he called you a degrading name.

"You like that dirty slut?" you mewled at him. He moved his fingers ceaselessly inside of you whilst breathing down your neck.

The sound of a zipper being undone makes your eyes crack open. You took a glimpse of Jungkook, his hand disappearing inside his jeans that displayed his muscular thighs.

You whined at him and he hovered on top of you. Your breathing got heavier as his cock sprung out of his jeans. "Oh god," you moaned as he slid himself inside of you so effortlessly. Your hands moved quicker inside of you. Feeling your wetness spill out of you and onto the mattress underneath you, you imagined him pounding into you. Your hands clamped on his long hair with your legs in the air as his hips furiously snapping into you.

It doesn't take you long to cum, given the fact at Jungkook's pace it seemed like he wasn't going to stop. He disappeared, leaving you sweaty and tired on the bed with your fingers stuck inside you. "Holy shit, I can not believe I just did that.

Recalling your words that were thrown at Jungkook, a heavy weight on your shoulder returned heavier as ever, reminding you how you practically lost your shot with him.

Shame on you for not giving Jeon Jungkook a chance.

"I think I was too harsh on him."

"You think? Don't lie to me bitch, you know you were fucking harsh on him," Hayoon stood in the middle of your room, scanning your closet for a dress she can wear to a party.

It was almost three days since your argument with Jungkook in front of everyone. You expected to make up with him on Thursday but Jungkook avoided you like you were the plague. He didn't text you for any notes he needed to borrow, nor did he usually come to study with you or leave you a sandwich. You never realized how apart of your life he became, especially when he didn't sit next to you for one of your shared classes. Instead, he chose to sit next to Taehyung, his best friend. It was Friday now and to be quite honest, you missed him.

"Don't trip about it. He could be at the party tonight, getting over you and possibly getting himself a girlfriend so you don't have to worry about him pinning over you. Now what the fuck should I wear?"

You didn't like the sound of that. Jungkook possibly finding another girl. Your consciousness settled back in your mind. How can you even say shit like that? You rejected him, you have no right to tell him not to move on. You sighed to yourself and laid back into the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't wanna see him."

"I don't wanna see him." she dragged the straps of your orange dress up her figure. "Shut up because on Wednesday you kept asking why he wouldn't talk to you, like bitch I wouldn't talk to you either with that shit you pulled back there."

"Why not?"

"You're not serious right?" she turned back to you. She raised her eyebrow, challenging you. You groaned and followed her out of the room when she didn't receive an answer. "That's what I thought," you heard her under her breath.

"Not gonna lie, I think I'm gonna break my ankle with these bitches," you pointed down at your high heels, slowing down. You stopped to fix them. Hayoon carried on walking to her car, leaving you behind.

"You wanted to wear them. Now get in," she honked her horn. You hissed at her, reminding her that the neighbors are going to complain. "Don't give a fuck, get in loser we're going to party!" she honked her horn longer.

You ran to her car when you realized she wasn't going to stop. "You need the swear jar, you stupid bitch."

"Not even," before you could say something back, her music blasts through the car. She screamed out the lyrics, encouraging you to join along. "In your eyes! You lie but I don't let it define you—oh define you!"

"You sound like a dying cat."

"I tried to find—fuck you then."

Along the way you started to wonder how she even got her driver's license. Hayoon almost went on the sidewalk when she was tried to park which forced you to get out of the car and direct her.

"Keep going, keep going."

"Fuck, bitch you sure? I don't want another ticket for being on the red line," her head stuck out to make sure she wasn't going to hit the car behind her.

"Yes I'm sure—okay stop!" Hayoon shuts off the engine, stumbling out of the car. She laughed to herself before walking up to the fraternity house with you. "Okay, I forgot what it was like coming here."

The first smell that filled your nostrils was vomit. You glanced down towards the ground and saw a distraught girl on the front lawn throwing up while her friend rubbed her back. Hayoon advised you not to look, to give the poor girl some pity. Reluctantly, you entered the house with a clumsy walk. Hayoon noticed and suggested that you go have a drink. You at first declined but once your eyes scanned the room and landed on Jungkook leaning against a wall with a redhead clinging onto him. You made your way to the open kitchen. Unknown to you, jealousy boiled in your stomach.

So that's how you end up on your first shot of a tequila with a cup of vodka already resting in your liver. You weren't drunk, still you were not far from being tipsy. Conscious enough to see that Jungkook's eyes were on you while you downed the shot. Eyes focused on your throat as you swallowed. He exhaled, watching you pull out your phone and tap away. The red head girl right besides him, tried calling his name out to hook his attention. He brushed her off, muttering something to her that he didn't sleep around anymore.

His frustration grew even more when he saw you wandering over to the middle of the room where sweaty bodies were grinding on each other. Your flimsy black silky dress was not doing him justice either, seeing how tight it was on your figure. It showed off your curves well; he hated how good you looked. There was a big opening in the back that stopped near your hips. Should be a crime to look that good, he thought to himself while trying to keep his eyes on you.

Your hips swayed to the music blasting throughout the house. You opened your eyes, landing on Jungkook immediately. His eyes devouring you as he took a sip of his beer, eyes locked on your hips. You tried not to look at him again but still wondered what was going in that mind of his. You raised your hands up in the air, dress threatening to rise up.

Your curiosity got the best of you. Squinting one eye open to take a peek of Jungkook but you failed to locate him.

A gasp left your mouth as someone pressed their front on your back, rubbing their crotch on your ass. A whiff of the sweet scented Victoria Secret perfume gave the identity away. You tilted your head so that it laid on his chest. Confirming your thought, Jungkook stared down at you with dark eyes. His arm muffled around your waist to press you further into his chest. He felt his body go ease when he saw your lips bunch up into a smile. Your hips rocked from side to side on him. Jungkook held his hand on your waist, encouraging you to continue. You willingly do so arms flinging on his neck as you dragged yourself down his chest. His growing bulge poked your ass as you grind yourself on him. Your head laid back on him. Jungkook leaned down to meet your lips. His mouth entwined with yours, lip gloss rubbing off onto his mouth. You moaned into his mouth and sensed that his hand was harshly holding one of your ass cheeks.

"You wanna go upstairs?" He was somewhat taken back at your suggestion but agreed nonetheless. With his fingers keeping a firm grip on yours, the two of you went upstairs.

He guided you towards the room, which all winded up preoccupied due to freshman trying to lose their virginities. You cringed when you come face to face with someone's bare ass pushing against the lanky girl. Jungkook pushed you into the bathroom, telling a man to fuck off when he tried getting in.

"Hey," you glanced up from the floor onto Jungkook's eyes. He offered you a small awkward smile, warming your heart as if he wasn't rubbing his dick on your ass a few minutes ago.

"Hi," your voice sounded very small and Jungkook wanted to reach out and reassure you that he only came up to you to apologize, not to have you grind on him in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," you began, eyes fixed to the ground. "Everything I said on that day was really fucked up. I care about your feelings. I care about you and I was giving you mixed signals and it's not okay."

"I'll be fine," his hand held your arm, rubbing it slightly. "It's okay if you don't return my feelings, I'll get over it—"

"But that's the thing I don't want you to get over it."

Jungkook blinked once, twice, and then another third time. Trying to comprehend your words while also trying to figure out what he was going to say was hard.

Your glossy lips moved. "I'm really willing to give you a chance and I'm so sorry for being such a cunt about it. I just—I needed some realization to understand my feelings. Truth is I've had a crush on you, but every time I saw you with these girls I always told myself I'm not good enough for you and that I'll never be. I’m also mad at the fact that you’re barely realizing your feelings towards me just now.”

He doesn't say anything which doesn't help your anxious state at the moment. Your gut scolded you, reminding you that you probably lost your chance and now you look like an idiot to him right now, confessing your feelings.

Jungkook sighed before embracing you. You stand still in shock from his sudden movements but chose to hug him back. His chin dropped down onto your head. "You're good enough for me, Y/N. You always have been and I'm sorry that it took me all these years for me to realize that."

"I couldn't stop thinking of you and all the shit I said. I'm really sorry from the bottom of my heart," you admitted.

His bulge pushed against you and your cheeks flushed warm. Jungkook didn't say anything but bent down to kiss you. His lips moved roughly against yours. Your fingers coming up towards his hair to run through them. His hands digging harshly into your ass, possibly leaving small bruises behind but you're unbothered by it.

You pulled away, enough to stare up at his eyes. "I seriously couldn't stop thinking about you. I fucking masturbated to you, just by thinking of the bus shit," you confessed, watching his face lit up in surprise.

"Yeah? What was going on in that head of yours?" he encouraged you. You giggled at him, his thigh coming between your thighs.

"Your fingers in my pussy," your cheeks burned pink as he coaxed you to go on. "Your big dick pounding in me."

The look on his face is priceless but it just stayed there for a mere second as Jungkook recollected himself. He couldn't believe what was coming out of your mouth, never in a million years would he ever imagine you of all people saying this. The warmth travelled towards his crotch as he hardened at your words. His friend of seven years, his crush for almost two years was here in front of him, revealing that she touched herself to the thought of him. A blissful comfort spread all over his body.

"Don't you want that to happen?" he didn't even realize how close you were, he was too caught up in his thoughts. "You don't want to fuck my brains out?"

Your thighs closed around his thick ones. You reached up to kiss his neck, pecking his soft skin. Jungkook grunted as you left open mouth kisses behind, gripping his hand and directing it near your hips.

"I can't do it here," Jungkook whispered to you once he grasped the circumstances. In a fraternity bathroom with people out there that can possibly hear you two? Jungkook would never allow himself to touch you here the first time you two have sex. You whined against him, rubbing your crotch on his thigh. "Shit, seriously Y/N? You're making this hard for me."

"What your dick? Why? I don't care where we do it. I just—I need it to happen—come on Jungkook fuck me," if your mind wasn't clouded by lust you would been very disappointed at yourself for what you were saying, but you could care less. He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He was fighting with himself.

The only sound in the bathroom was the loud heavy bass music playing and the two of you heavily breathing. "Do you want me to go find another guy out there that can do the job for you or what?" you tried riling him up and it worked cause Jungkook was staring at you with dark hooded eyes. "Cause' I could walk out there and take any guy home with me do you want that?" you both know deep down you wouldn’t be able to do that. You’re too shy.

Jungkook came across as if something possessed him suddenly. His hair falling over his eyes slightly. His tongue came out of his mouth to moisten his lips. "Get on your fucking knees," Jungkook snapped, a hand going back to get tangled in your hair. You dropped down to the ground. "I wanna see your pretty tits," you pulled down the straps of your dress and got rid of your strapless bra, throwing it aside. "Well aren't you a desperate cock sucking whore?" you whined at him with your dress bunched up around your waist. "What don't tell me you like being called that?" he chuckled. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation.

You reached over to unzip his jeans. He merely let out a chuckle, extremely satisfied with your avidity. As you rolled down his boxers, his hand wrapped around your hair. "Look up at me, whore," your eyes jerked up to him. "Open your mouth," you gulped at the size, wondering if it was even going to fit in your poor mouth. He teased, rubbing the head of his cock on your lips when you did. Your jaw ached as you tried opening as wide as you can to please him. You looked up at him as he slid his cock in your mouth. He groaned, loving the warmth and wetness of your mouth surrounding him. He maintained the eye contact between you two whilst he carried on shoving his dick in your throat. You moaned and moved back once it hit your throat. But before you can, he gripped the back of your hair firmly and thrusted his hips forward. You gagged around him, tears brewing and ready to burst out. You extended your hands out to his thighs. He held your head in place, his cock shoving down your throat at an animalistic speed. "What a good little slut," he eventually praised you. "Letting me fuck her throat hard and shit," you shut your eyes.

You regret doing so. Feeling a tug to your hair, your eyes snap open and look up. "You get praised like a good bitch once and you think you can be a bad girl? I don't think so, whore," he stared straight into your eyes with his dark orbs devouring you. Your drool slithering down your chin. You peer up at him with desperation written all over your face. Your fingers glided down to your dress. You kept your gaze on him when your fingers entered your pussy, feeling how wet you are. "Are you seriously touching yourself?" he sounded thrilled at the idea. Jungkook stopped moving for a second, allowing you to suck on the head of his cock. He watched mascara run down your cheeks, feeling some sort of ego boost that he was making you look this way.

You nodded frantically, moving your fingers faster. You sucked him harder, your jaw throbbing as you attempted to deep throat him. He forced your head deeper so that your nose was touching his pubic hair. "I didn't give you permission, disobedient slut. You got three seconds to finish," he finished with a sullen laugh, knowing you weren't. "One, two–" Jungkook watched your eyes become watery as you hopelessly tried to get yourself to cum in just three seconds. "—three, take your fingers out whore."

You obeyed and showed him your fingers, glittering under the bathroom light, even though on the inside you were begging to be touched again. You thought of going against him. Jungkook let a cackle escape from his mouth. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet I bet you're fucking leaking out onto the floor."

You mewled, bobbing your head up and down. Releasing his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop, you batted your eyelashes up at him. "I'm so fucking wet for you," he flashed you a quick grin, obviously content with your answer. He brought your fingers up to his mouth, sucking them off while maintaining eye contact with you. His tongue swirled around your finger as you repeat the same motion on his cock. He released your finger.

"You can use your hands," you pull away right after he said that. You pumped him rapidly, your hand moving back and forth. Your ears took in his grunts, feeling some pride for causing him to make those noises. He almost came when he felt your warm, wet mouth around one of his balls.

"I want you to cum on my tits." he agreed, staring down at you. Tension builds within his stomach as he groaned out loud. You gaped at him when his cum shoots towards your neck, aiming towards your breasts.

Jungkook's breathing became heavier as he came back down from his blissful state that he was in. He grew hard in a instant when he saw how fucked you looked. Your mascara running down your eyes, leaving a trail of black ink behind. Your hair was tangled together into a mess due to him gripping it so tightly. With saliva dripping down your red swollen smeared lips, his eyes drifted further down. The straps of the dress you were wearing were rolled out into your stomach, exhibiting your perky breasts that are smeared with his cum.

"You look like a fucked whore," he smiled at you with satisfaction resting in his mind.

You giggled at him, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah, not just for you," you gazed up at him, a small smile on your lips.

He helped you get off the floor. His facial expression is now serious, indicating that he wasn't happy with your answer. Jungkook's fingers tapped the cold surface of the sink, indicating to sit down on it. You do so, opening your legs slowly.

He watched, eyes strictly locked in between your legs. "Who are you so wet for?" he asked.

You snorted and shrugged which only grew him more frustrated.

Jungkook growled and flipped you over. He bended you over the bathroom sink and bore his eyes into you by the mirror. "You wanna keep acting like a slut, you're might as well be fucked like one," you silently squealed in excitement. Jungkook lifted your dress up in one go. He pulled your underwear down, making you step out of them. "Put your leg on the counter," he commanded and you do as you're told. Lifting your right leg on the counter while the other one remained on the ground. You heard him frantically pull down his jeans. You gasped when you feel the tip on your entrance. He reached over for the condom on the counter.

"No!" you exclaimed. Jungkook stopped and looked down at your worriedly, wondering if you wanted to stop now. You gulped, feeling your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Don't use one please." you whined. "I want to feel you raw."

You heard Jungkook chuckle from behind you. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was fucking thriving. "Yeah? My fucking slut wants me to do her raw?" he started pushing himself. You held your breath as your walls allowed him to enter, tightening around his big shaft. His cock rimmed inside of you

"Y-yeah," you manage to choke out, staring at him through the mirror. He maintained eye contact to where your bodies connected, watching his cock sink into you as he held your hips in place.

"Has any other guy fucked you raw, slut?" Jungkook brought his hand around your throat. You sensed that you could orgasm right there. You shook your head as he finally is inside of you fully. "What was that? Use your words, come on you're a big girl," he gripped your inner right thigh with so much strength, he could break it off if he tried. I mean those biceps.

"N-no only you. Just for you," he grinned at that.

"Good," you let out a loud moan when he started finally moving. His hips rutted into yours at an animalistic speed. He stared at you through the mirror, watching how your mouth opens and your breasts jiggle. He pressed your throat a little harder. "Bet no guy ever made you feel this way."

"Only you, Jungkook! Only you!" you manage to breath out. Your knuckles are almost white by how hard you're holding onto the counter. He lowers himself so his face is near your ear.

"Yeah? Look at you, telling me how I'll never have you yet you're over here drooling over my dick. Fucking whore." you whined harder as he breathed down your neck. You feel yourself began getting more wetter at his words. "Imagine what your family and friends will say when they find out you're letting me fuck you in the ass in a dirty bathroom at a frat party."

You shut your eyes, your pussy swallowing him back in. His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter. "Fucking slut," he snapped his hips at you. You moaned out loud, shamelessly. "On the dance floor dancing like one."

"Because I am one," he chuckled at that, fingers coming up to pinch your nipple.

"Yeah? Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?" the grip on your throat tightened, not enough to block your airway however. Jungkook kept his eye on you through the mirror, your lips molding into an oval shape. His palm came down to meet one of your asscheeks. You jumped forward, Jungkook pulling you back onto his cock. He stopped moving to lock eyes with you through the mirror, his lips hovering over your ear. "When I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer," you tried to move your hips a bit but he caught you before you can. "Now," his voice deepened. "Whose slut are you?"

"Your slut! I'm your slut! Jungkook, please—"

"Yeah? Scream when I fuck you so that everyone knows who your pussy belongs to," his hips rammed into you again. You swore you can feel him fucking into your cervix. You let a loud moan break free from your mouth, his hot breath fanned your ear.

A roaring pounding on the door snapped his head away. You whimpered and become aware that his pace was reducing as his attention was now on the other man trying to get in. Jungkook yelled out words that sounded fuzzy to your ears considering all you could hear is your heartbeat.

"No, no, Jungkook don't stop," you pleaded with him, twisting yourself to look at his lust filled eyes. "I'm almost there please!"

You almost screamed at him when he pulled out. He sat on the toilet lid, tapping his thighs that were spread out in front of him. "Ride me," he demanded. You're somehow quick on your wobbly legs, getting on top of him. You grasped his swollen red cock, lining it up with your entrance before sinking down.

Jungkook's hand went towards your hip to support you while the other one went further down to touch your swollen clit. His mouth came near your ear as you cried out his name. "If you don't come in the next minute, you're not cumming tonight, got it slut?" you panted but nonetheless nodded frantically.

And with that Jungkook sat back, watching you fuck yourself on his cock, you were basically using him as a toy and Jungkook loved that. The desperation look on your face was amusing and Jungkook stored in in his memories.

"Oh shit! Fuck I'm almost there," his palm travelled further down to rub your ass.

"Time's almost up," he wasn't actually keeping track but your determination to cum on such a short amount of time was adorable to him. Your thighs smacked his, bouncing on his cock faster. Jungkook's finger carried on rubbing against your clit, his eyes trailing down from your face to your bouncing breasts.

Your eyes rolled back as you heaved up. Your mouth opened wide, feeling your orgasm wash over you. Jungkook heard his name leave your mouth, panting. He almost came when he felt something warm soak into his jeans. Looking down, he became aware of what just happened.

"Fucking dirty slut," he hissed and allowed you to relax your head on his shoulder as your whole weight sunk down on him. His ears took in your sniffles. "Look what you did, squirted all over me slut."

Your cheeks burned in humiliation, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.

You gasped when he lifted his hips up to meet yours. You cried out to him to stop but Jungkook's quick to silence you with his fingers stuffed in your mouth. Your tears threatened to spill. "You're so tight, fuck! Need to fuck you more, whore,"

It doesn't take long for him to sprout into you, judging the way you tightened around him and how fucked your face look when he looked down to meet your eyes. With his cum coating your walls, he slid out of you. A bit of cum came out and dropped down to his black pants leaving a white stain behind.

You attempted to stand out on your own but failed due to you not being able to feel your legs for a second. Luckily, Jungkook is there to help you. He bent down to help you put on your underwear.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked while zipping up his pants. You checked your face in the mirror, noticing the hickeys all over your neck and the mascara smothered down your cheeks.

You turned to look at him, pulling your dress down."Are you really asking me after we just had sex? Where's my bra by the way?" your face is met with your bra when he flung it at you.

He laughed, watching you put it on. "Yeah, seriously though are you?"

"Why? If I'm going to be your sugar mama I might as well be your baby mama." Jungkook looked stricken and you snickered, bringing your hand up to hide your mouth. "I'm joking," you wiped your face with some wet wipes you found in the drawers.

"Not funny, was ready to fucking make a run for it."

It was your turn to look stricken as Jungkook laughed. You frowned and slapped his chest.

It goes quiet, the loud bass music now coming back to fill your ears instead of Jungkook's moans. He stood awkwardly near the corner while you threw away the wipes you used to remove your makeup. Running your fingers through your hair, you turned towards him.

"So, does this mean that you're going to give me a chance?" the man in front of you standing like an anime character asked, as if he wasn't calling you degrading names a few minutes ago.

You smiled at him and lunged forward to kiss him. "Yes, I'll give you a chance Jungkook."

↳ in your heart; drabble collection

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #fratboy jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff

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